Playing the Players
by iRiDeScEnT DrReAm
Summary: "Are you ready to play the players, Tessa?" Tessa nodded firmly. "How hard can it be after all?" Clary and Tessa have had just about enough of Jace and Will and their womanizing ways - so they make a plan to give the two a taste of their own medicine and break their hearts. The only problem is, the Herondale boys are planning on doing the exact same thing. TMI/TID crossover.
1. Prologue

_Hey guys! _

_So after I read The Infernal Devices – and cried my heart out – I totally fell in love with Tessa, Jem, and Will. After reading a few fanfictions, I decided to write one myself and suddenly it popped into my head: why not write one with both the characters of the Mortal Instruments AND the Infernal Devices? _

_Happy reading! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments or the Infernal Devices. _

* * *

_"__So it's gonna be forever, or it's gonna go down in flames. You can tell me when it's over, if the high was worth the pain. Got a long list of ex-lovers, they'll tell you I'm insane. Cos you know I love the players, and you love the game." _

_\- Blank Space, Taylor Swift _

* * *

**Prologue**

Tessa Gray did not consider herself a hot-tempered person.

In fact, she rather prided herself on her ability to keep her cool in any situation, no matter how tense. She was the peacemaker, the calm one, the collected one. Tessa had never met someone she couldn't handle before.

And then she had the great misfortune to meet Will Herondale.

Otherwise known as the bane of her existence.

In all honesty, Tessa didn't think there was anyone – apart from Jem – who could walk away from a conversation with Will without wanting to tear their hair out and scream from pure frustration.

So she felt it was perfectly justified to slap him in the middle of the cafeteria.

"Was it something I said?" Will asked mildly, not looking fazed in the least. His midnight blue eyes sparkled with amusement - the same eyes that so many girls swooned over. It was too bad, Tessa thought, that the beauty could not mask the terrible personality.

"God, Will!" Tessa yelled. "Just go!"

"Go where, if you please?" Will inquired, as if asking the time.

"Go to France, go to Russia, go wherever you want! Just go far away from me!"

"You wound me, Tess," he cried dramatically. "Right here." He placed his hand over his heart, looking for all the world as if she had just stabbed him with a sword.

Before Tessa could retaliate, someone else stepped forward, someone with blonde hair and a charming smile, and clapped a hand on Will's shoulder. "Must be losing your touch, bro," Jace drawled. "Finally willing to admit defeat and accept that I have a better way with the ladies?"

Will scoffed. "Please. Like you could do any better."

Without missing a beat, Jace turned to the red-haired girl who stood by Tessa's side, her emerald eyes widening with horror as Jace's gaze landed on her. _Don't you dare, Herondale. _

"Clary darling," Jace smiled flirtatiously, "go out with me this Saturday, will you?"

"In your fucking dreams," Clary retorted, before grabbing Tessa's arm and pulling her away. "Come on, Tessa, let's go. It's no use. These two will never change."

The two girls walked away as whispers broke out across the cafeteria like little hissing fires. The students of Shadowhunter High had just found a new topic of gossip for the next few days - Tessa and Clary.

"Every single time man," Jace sighed, dropping his hand. "What is it with the two of them?"

"I don't know," Will scowled, "but I certainly don't like it. We've played every single girl in the school – except for the two of them. It's like they're immune or something."

"A word of advice," Jem offered, stepping forward. "If you really want to win them over, why don't you stop flirting with every girl you meet and focus on _them_. Show them that you've changed."

Both brothers stared at him like he had just told them that he was going to strip naked and dance in the middle of the cafeteria.

Suddenly, Jace's golden eyes lit up.

"That's it!" He clapped Jem hard on the back. "Dude, you are a _genius_!"

"Oh shit," Alec sighed. "This is going to be bad."

"Hey!" Jace stopped, looking affronted. "My ideas are not bad!"

"Really?" Alec raised an eyebrow. "What about that time you decided it would be fun to try to jump into the pool from the treehouse?"

"Or when you drank all that tequila - underage, might I add - and ran down the street naked?"

"Or when you tried to feed the poultry pie to the ducks to see if you could breed a race of cannibal mallards?"

"That one was Will's idea!" Jace protested.

"But you executed it," Jem reminded him.

"They ate it too," Will reminisced. "Bloodthirsty little beasts."

"Can we get back to the point here?" Jace asked impatiently. "Clary and Tessa. Man, if we can get them – we'd be known as the ultimate sex gods."

Alec and Jem exchanged commiserating glances. Being friends with the Herondales was an exhausting job, one that required them to work 24/7 and buy medical insurance.

"So, what about this plan of yours?" Will asked.

"Just like Jem said," Jace explained. "We make them believe that we've changed. We stop flirting with every other girl and focus solely on them, and treat them so well that they fall for us. Then we'll have played them good and well. Problem solved!"

"Whoa, whoa, time-out," Jem interjected. "Jace, that's low - even for you. I haven't said anything before because the Angel knows it's impossible to get you to change. But his is different. You aren't just going to break their hearts; you're lying to them, making them believe that you changed. Can you really live with that on your conscience?"

"Jem," Will said seriously. "It's just a bit of fun. Back off, will you?"

Jem looked to Alec for support. The dark-haired boy sighed, knowing it was futile even as he spoke. "Think about Cecily," he started, voice cajoling. "How would you feel if someone treated her that way? If someone broke her heart?"

Jace and Will hesitated. "Cecy's a tough girl," Jace shrugged. "I'd like to see the guy who can play_ her_. It'll be fine, guys. Relax."

Jem and Alec knew there was nothing more they could say to change the minds of the two Herondales. They were like freight trains; they wouldn't stop until they reached their destination.

"No flirting or making out, though," Will complained. "That's going to be hard, man."

"It's just for a few weeks," Jace shrugged. "A month, max. How hard can it be to fall in love with _us_?"

* * *

"Those Herondale boys are the limit!" Tessa raged, pacing up and down. "They think the whole world is just dying to fall at their feet!"

"I know!" Clary burst, her green eyes blazing with anger. "And Jace has the NERVE to ask me out – asshole thinks he's God's gift to women!"

"If Will vanished off the face of the Earth, I'd throw a party! Honestly, his head is so big I'm surprised it doesn't burst!"

Isabelle and Sophie sighed as they watched their friends. They weren't surprised; this outburst was tame compared to some of the others they had endured. Isabelle looked at her watch – this one had lasted twenty minutes and by the looks of it, it would go on much longer.

She gave Sophie a covert nudge, which meant: _Who's going to break up their little rant fest?_

Sophie nudged back. _I did it last time; it's your turn. _

Isabelle sighed. _Damn it. _

She got to her feet rather half-heartedly. "Tessa, it's time for English Lit."

Normally, the mention of English Lit would have drawn Tessa's attention. For some reason Isabelle couldn't understand, Tessa loved old English novels – Charles Dickens, William Shakespeare and the like. When Mr Wayland had announced that they would be studying _A Tale of Two Cities, _Isabelle had thought that Tessa might jump up in class and start doing the Macarena.

Today, however, the mention of English Lit just caused Tessa to keep going.

"No way!" Tessa shrieked. "I know he's just waiting for me to come so that he can torture me some more."

"Tessa," Isabelle explained patiently. "You have to go to English Lit. It's mandatory. If you don't, you'll get a detention. Is that really what you want?"

Tessa stopped in her tracks, frowning at Isabelle. "Fine. But if he even dares to try anything, I'll – "

Clary snapped her fingers. "That's it! I've got it!"

All three girls looked at her. "Got what?" Sophie questioned. "Clary, please don't tell me you've cooked up some crazy plan for revenge."

Clary grinned at the brunette. "Actually, I have. But it's not crazy."

"Well, tell us!" Tessa crossed her arms over her chest.

"We beat them at their own game," Clary announced. "We reel them in and make them fall hook, line and sinker for us. We make them believe that we love them too - and then break their hearts."

Sophie looked uncertain. "Clary, I know they're completely infuriating. I know you hate them. But are you really sure you can pull that off? Do that to them?"

"Why not?" Clary demanded. "They do it, Sophie. It's like a game to them. They play girls and break their hearts and then they _laugh _about it. Do you know how many girls cry because of them? How much hurt they've caused? But they don't even care, Soph. They only care about themselves."

"I'm with Clary," Tessa added. "Let them have a taste of their own medicine for once."

Isabelle looked unconvinced. "You do know the number one rule in playing a player, don't you?"

"And what rule is that?" Clary asked.

"Never fall in love with him."

Both Tessa and Clary shot Isabelle incredulous looks.

"Who, us?" Tessa laughed. "Fall in love with them? No chance."

"It's impossible," Clary agreed. "We're going to make _them_ fall for _us_. So Tessa, are you ready to play the players?"

Tessa nodded firmly. "How hard can it be, after all?"

* * *

_Oh darlings, you have no idea what you're in for. _

_So, there you have the premise of the story. Tessa and Clary – and Jace and Will – have the same goals: to make the other two fall in love with them. And you know this is going to lead to a whole load of trouble. _

_Till next time! _


	2. Chapter 1

_Less than a day and already eight reviews and 31 follows! _

_You guys are fucking awesome. Virtual hugs from me to all of you. This chapter takes place a couple of days after the events of the prologue, and I hope you like it. _

_Happy reading! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments or the Infernal Devices._

* * *

_"__Save your advice, cause I won't hear. You might be right, but I don't care. There's a million reasons why I should give you up, but the heart wants what it wants." _

_ \- The Heart Wants What It Wants, Selena Gomez _

* * *

**Chapter One **

"Clary," Jocelyn called. "Can you come down here, please?"

"What is it, Mom?" Clary asked as she came down the stairs, noticing that her mother had a worried look on her face, one hand still holding her phone. "What happened?"

"It's Grandma," Jocelyn sighed. "She fell down the other day and broke her leg; and since she has no one else, I – "

"Will she be okay?" Clary interrupted. "It's not serious, right?"

"She's not going to die or anything," her mother reassured her. "But she won't be able to do a lot of things by herself and since she has no one else, I need to go and look after her."

"How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know," Jocelyn answered. "At the very least, about three weeks. And since your father is away too, Jonathan, Tessa and you are going to be alone here."

"So you want me to keep them in check?" Clary teased. "Say no more, Mom. I understand your concern completely."

Her mother rolled her eyes. "I know that there's going to be at least one party happening when I'm gone, so just clean up after yourselves, will you?"

"Will do, Mom," Clary nodded. Although Jonathan was the oldest out of the three of them, Jocelyn and Valentine trusted Clary and Tessa more. Jocelyn knew that if not Clary, Tessa could be counted upon to be the voice of reason.

"I've left enough money that you should be good until Dad comes home," Jocelyn continued. "In case you wanted to order pizza or something like that."

"Ok. Oh and Mom, can I – "

That was when the door opened and Jonathan came in.

As far as brothers went, Clary had decided when she was twelve, Jonathan was pretty cool. Yes, he drove her up the wall and made her want to strangle him sometimes, but he didn't treat her like a kid just because she was a year younger than him and neither did he act like he was a pest in front of his friends. Yes, he could be embarrassingly protective of her sometimes, but Clary had always found that to be secretly quite touching.

Most people were surprised when they found out the two were siblings and Clary couldn't really blame them. Jonathan was tall and broad, with white-blonde hair like their father, while Clary was short and thin with her mother's fiery red hair. The only similarities the two shared were their bright green eyes and slender hands, inherited from Jocelyn.

Really, Clary mused, it was most unfair that her brother had gotten all the _good _genes.

"Oh Jonathan, good, you're here," her mother sighed in relief. "I must leave as soon as possible."

"Leave?" Jon asked, looking confused. "Where?"

"Grandma broke her leg, Mom needs to go look after her, so we're going to be alone for the next three months weeks until Dad comes home from his business trip," Clary rattled off before her mother could even open her mouth.

Jonathan blinked, and then a devious smile spread across his face. "We're going to be home alone for three weeks?" he asked. "Sweet!"

_The days when children begged their parents not to leave them at home alone, _Jocelyn reminisced as she went to pack. _I just hope they don't burn the house down while I'm gone. _

* * *

"What is this supposed to be?" Clary stared at the notebook that Isabelle had thrown onto her lap.

Her mother had left a few hours ago. Jonathan was out at Alec's house and Clary and Tessa had decided to invite Sophie, Isabelle and Cecily over, not wanting to be alone by themselves in the huge house.

"Well," Isabelle explained, sitting cross-legged on the bed, "if you're going to carry on with your crazy plan of playing Jace and Will, I figured you would need this."

Tessa leaned over Clary's shoulder to read the words on the front page. The title proclaimed that the notebook was "The Perfect Guide to Teach You How to Play a Player."

The two girls exchanged dubious looks before Clary turned to the next page and started to read the words out loud. _"Playing a player isn't easy. If the guy is a true player, then he's an expert at playing girls and breaking their hearts and has been doing so for years. But if you're determined to play a player and have him eating out of your hand in no time at all, just follow these steps." _

"You made a guide for us on how to play Jace and Will?" Tessa asked, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"I didn't make it," Isabelle defended herself. "I found this article online. It seemed pretty sound advice, so I printed it out and pasted it into the book."

"You have to use it," Cecily said firmly. "I know my brothers. They're experts. You're going to need all the help you can get to pull this off. Trust me on this one."

"And you're okay with us breaking their hearts?" Clary said doubtfully. "They _are _your brothers."

"They may be my brothers, but they need to be taught a lesson," Cecily replied. "I hate seeing them play girls and cause heartbreak and they won't listen to me no matter how much I tell them not to. If this can get them to change, then I'm all for it."

Tessa grabbed the book from Clary and flipped the page. _"Step number one: Ignore him at first. To play a player, you need to get his attention. You have to start off by completely ignoring him – be an ice queen if you have to. If he walks into a room and tries to charm you, look away, stare into your drink, or barely say hi before you check your phone or disappear to the girl's room."_

_"__He'll notice you precisely because you didn't notice him. Players expect to be worshipped by every woman around and he'll wonder why his magic didn't work on you." _

"Been there, done that," Cecily grinned. "They're completely baffled as to why you don't like them."

_"__You don't have to be outright rude to him. Just look completely uninterested like you have better things to do than to talk to him. But that doesn't mean you should insult him or call him names, either." _

"Shit," Clary sighed. "_That's _going to be hard."

"Just think of it as a sacrifice for the greater good," Sophie offered.

_"__Then, slowly acknowledge them. After a while, say two weeks or so, you can start to open up a bit. You should let him know you see him, but just enough to make him curious and to want to get to know you and win you over. Warning: Don't let him make you laugh, ask you to dance, or lavish you with compliments._

Before she could continue reading any further, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Tessa said, getting up. "It's probably the pizza guy."

"Pizzas are a definite must for girl nights," Isabelle said. "It's like one of the Ten Commandments or something."

Tessa rolled her eyes as she grabbed some money from her dresser and went out the door, listening to Isabelle and Cecily arguing about the inequality of people always ordering pizzas for nights in. Cecily insisted that she was going to start a campaign for "Food Equality" and that she was getting tired of seeing all other types of junk food being discriminated against.

Her friends were weird.

But she was glad to have them.

Tessa hadn't known what it was like to have friends, real friends, until she came to New York. She had always been a loner, preferring the company of fictional characters over real people.

Tessa couldn't count the number of times she had sobbed into her pillow, _A Tale of Two Cities _clutched tightly to her chest as the cruel remarks of her schoolmates continued to ring in her head, taunting her.

And then had come the accident...

Tessa had gotten much better at pushing the memories away in the three years since she had left London. Clary had been a rock of support, always there for her as a shoulder to cry on, or if she just needed to talk – even if it was at midnight.

Jocelyn, Valentine and Jonathan had been equally as kind to her; Tessa had grown to love the Morgensterns as her own family but there were still times when she cried herself to sleep at night, when she couldn't look at Jonathan without it reminding her of –

"Excuse me?"

Tessa was pulled back to real life by the voice of the pizza delivery guy. "Sorry," she smiled. "I was a bit preoccupied."

She really had to keep a better handle on those memories.

_Some things have to stay in the past. _

* * *

"William, will you_ pay attention to me_ when I'm talking to you?"

Will was roughly jerked back to reality – or more accurately, the mahogany dining table – when Jace jabbed his elbow into his ribs.

"I'm sorry, Grandmother. What were you saying?"

Imogen glared at him over her spectacles. "If you did not find it interesting enough the first time, I doubt you will care to listen to it again. I am not repeating myself, William. In the meantime, I would suggest that you learn some manners."

And she did not look at him again.

Will groaned internally. When his grandmother was displeased with someone, it was a long time before she finally forgave them and even longer still before they made their way back to her good graces again.

Imogen Herondale may have looked like a frail old lady but she had a will of steel. Ever since his grandfather's death, the whole family looked to her, and she ruled the household with an iron hand. You didn't break her rules unless you wanted to face her wrath.

One of those rules happened to be that the whole family had to sit together at the dining table and eat dinner together, during which they made polite (a.k.a, forced) conversation.

His grandmother would have done much better in the eighteenth century, Will decided.

The table was quieter than usual that evening, as it always was when Cecily wasn't home. His younger sister was the main conversation-maker, and without her, no one else quite knew how to begin.

It didn't help that it was the first evening Ella had invited Ragnor, her new boyfriend, home.

Eventually, a silence descended upon the table, all attempts at talking finally petering out. Will knew that the significance of the day wasn't lost on anyone, that, like the proverbial elephant in the room, the absent seat at the other head of the table was just another reminder of what they had all lost.

Will didn't even ask for permission before he left, knowing that what he had done was unpardonable in his grandmother's eyes, and finding that he didn't care.

* * *

Jace found him on the roof half an hour later.

Ever since he was little, Will loved to come out on the roof and look up at the stars. It was his own private space, somewhere he could lie and think and be by himself. He had learnt the constellations when he was young and he could point them out even now, tracing their shapes in the sky with his eyes until he came to the first star whose name he had learnt.

_"__That's the Pole Star, Will. No matter where you are in the world, you can always see it – if you just look hard enough."_

"You should have seen the look on Imogen's face when you left." Jace's voice was amused. "She looked like you had just committed murder or something before her eyes."

"She looks like that half the time anyway," Will responded. "I don't see the difference."

Jace chuckled. "True. But you better come down now, or I think she's going to throw a fit."

Will groaned. "She's probably going to murder me."

Jace shrugged. "Ah well, you're going to have to take care of that problem yourself, dude."

Will sighed dramatically. "Make sure you pick out a nice tombstone and a good epitaph. I would hate to give a false impression of myself to the lucky souls who happen to walk by my grave."

"Lucky indeed," Jace said dryly, throwing an arm around the other boy's shoulders. "Now let's go meet your impending demise."

* * *

_Whew! Finally finished it! _

_Sorry that I took so long – nearly a week – but life got in the way. _

_I know this chapter had no Tessa/Will, Jace/Clary interaction, but I promise there will be in the next chapter. I wanted to give you a bit of an introduction to their lives. Now that the Morgenstern household isn't going to have any parental authority, things will get crazy..._

_Till next time! _


	3. Chapter 2

_Hey everyone! _

_Heads up: this chapter is more Wessa but fear not Clace lovers – I will not dream of not giving Jace and Clary their chance. _

_Thanks for all the favs, follows and reviews!_

_Happy reading! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or The Infernal Devices. _

* * *

_"__I'm a badass jumping off a moving train. I'm a Jane Bond, putting all the guys to shame. I'm a wild card, I'm about to take my aim. You better watch out...I'm a fire-starter, I'm a sweet disaster. I melt hearts like water..." _

_Fire-Starter, Demi Lovato _

* * *

**Chapter Two **

"This chai latte should be one of the seven wonders of the world because it is bloody_ amazing._"

Tessa rolled her eyes at the redhead's dramatic statement, calmly taking a sip of her own black coffee. "Your relationship with food is one that I will never understand."

Clary pointed an accusing finger at the brunette. "That is because you, my dear Tessa, are just plain weird. Who else would drink _black coffee _when there are so much more delicious drinks – such as this amazing chai latte - you could have?"

Tessa scoffed. "_I'm _weird? I don't know what delusion you're under but I think it's perfectly apparent to everybody that _you_ are the weird one. And for your information, black coffee happens to be perfectly delicious _and _healthy."

"Yeah, yeah," Clary waved her hand dismissively. "You just keep telling yourself that."

Without Jocelyn to yank the covers off and threaten them with bodily harm, Tessa and Clary had gotten up only at ten in the morning. Not wanting to cook or eat, in Clary's words, "boring old cereal", the two girls had decided to head to Starbucks for brunch.

Tessa wished she had a camera with her, just so she could capture the look on Clary's face. The petite girl looked like she was in heaven; an expression of complete rapture on her features, complete with a creamy mustache on her upper lip.

"I need to go soon," Tessa said, throwing Clary a napkin to wipe her mouth. "My shift at the bookstore starts in about fifteen minutes and I need to pick up a new copy of A Tale of Two Cities since my old one looks like it might fall apart any minute."

"You're the only person I've ever known who voluntarily reads a Charles Dickens book," Clary commented. "Sometimes I worry about your mental health."

"I can assure you I'm perfectly sane," Tessa replied dryly, finishing off her drink. "Although I can't say the same for you, I'm afraid."

The redhead's spring green eyes sparkled with mischief as she threw her head back and put on an exaggerated British accent. "Tessa darling, what_ever _are you talking about? I'm completely of sound mind – are you sure you're feeling all right?"

"That sounded like you just inhaled a load of helium," Tessa informed Clary, trying and failing to hold back a smile. "And don't make fun of my country."

Tessa hadn't ever thought that she could miss London, even though she had lived there for nearly ten years. It was only after the accident, after she had returned to New York to live with the Morgensterns that she had missed it desperately, often forgetting where she was when she woke up in the middle of the night. New York, however lovely it was, just wasn't London. Wasn't quite home.

"I think I'll head on over to Simon's house," Clary interrupted her thoughts. "Say hi to Luke for me."

The two girls headed out of the cafe and parted ways, Tessa heading to Luke's bookstore, a couple of streets away, and Clary going to Simon's house. It was an unusually hot and humid day for October and Tessa was glad to get out of the sweltering heat and into the air-conditioned shop.

Luke, Jocelyn and Valentine had been close friends in college, and the Morgensterns had named Luke godfather to both Jonathan and Clary. Tessa's parents had been friendly with Luke too, but Tessa had only got to know him when she moved in with the Morgensterns. It was Luke who had offered her a part-time job at the shop, knowing that she needed something to take her mind off the accident. He had also insisted that she call him Luke instead of 'Mr Garroway.'

Jessamine Lovelace was at the counter as usual, busily filing her nails with her perfectly manicured feet propped up on the table. "Great, you're here," the blonde girl drawled when she spotted Tessa. "I was nearly about to die of boredom."

It was a mystery to Tessa why Jessamine even wanted to have a job at all. It wasn't as if she had financial problems; Jessie's parents were loaded, and she was the apple of their eye. If she needed anything, all she had to do was bat her eyelashes and ask.

Luke came out of the store room, smiling when he spotted Tessa. Jessamine called goodbye and left, but Tessa was focused on Luke. She knew from his face that something was wrong – his usually cheerful blue eyes were clouded with anxiety and there was a strained expression on his face.

"Tessa," he started. "I need to ask you a favour."

"What is it?"

"Could you stay until two instead of 1.30 and lock up?" Luke asked. "Amatis was in a car accident, and they've taken her to the hospital so I need to go."

"Of course," Tessa replied. Amatis was Luke's older sister, which explained why he looked so worried. "I hope she's alright."

"Me too," Luke sighed. "Thanks, Tessa. I owe you for this."

"No problem," Tessa smiled.

Once Luke had left, Tessa settled herself into the chair behind the counter and opened up a brand new copy of A Tale of Two Cities that she had taken from the shelf.

Placing the book flat on the desk, she started to read, her head resting upon her right elbow. It didn't take long before she was drawn into the world of 17th century France, into the minds of Lucie Manette and Charles Darnay and Sydney Carton...

"Well, fancy seeing you here Tess."

_You have got to be kidding me. _

Tessa's head snapped up, her blue-grey eyes narrowing at the person who had rudely pulled her back to reality. Sure enough, it was Will's dark blue gaze that met hers.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted, standing up. She might be trying to play him but if he tried any of his cheesy pick-up lines on her, the only thing he was going to get was a repeat of the slap she had given him last Tuesday.

Will shrugged. "I came to get a copy of A Tale of Two Cities. Is it a crime?"

_Of all the times he could have come to get the book, he _had _to pick 12.30 on a Sunday afternoon. Why, Fate, why? _

Tessa gritted her teeth to keep a rude response from slipping out. _You're trying to play him. You can't insult him at every turn. _"I never said it was," she retorted calmly. "You wanted A Tale of Two Cities, didn't you? Here you go."

She shoved the book she had been reading into his hands. "That'll be eleven dollars."

Will didn't pay her and leave like she'd been hoping. Instead he looked at her curiously, blue eyes searching her face. "Why were you reading this?"

Tessa sighed. "I was bored, I read a book I liked. Eleven dollars please."

Still, the infuriating boy lingered. "Why do you like this book?"

Tessa was about to reach over the counter and throttle Will until she saw the genuine interest in his eyes. Much to her surprise, her annoyance faded as she tried to answer his question. "I don't really know," she responded, thinking. "I think it's because I like the characters mostly. Especially Sydney Carton."

Will raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't he die in the end?"

"Will you never stop asking questions?" Tessa replied, exasperated. "Yes, he does die but he did it because he loved Lucie and wanted her to be happy."

"If I had a name like that, I'd go kill myself too," Will agreed cheerfully. "Poor guy."

"I am not going to enter into a discussion about names with you," Tessa replied tersely, barely keeping her temper in check. "And I believe you still owe me eleven dollars."

Will, of course, ignored this. "Why are you all alone?" he asked, looking around the shop.

Tessa sighed. "Luke – my boss – had to leave early because of personal matters. He asked me to stay until two to lock up. Are you satisfied now?"

Will looked at his watch. "Looks like you have about an hour left," he commented, turning his midnight blue eyes on her.

"What a remarkable observation," Tessa replied sarcastically. "Can't you just pay me eleven dollars and leave? Isn't there some pretty girl you have to flirt with?"

Right at that moment, there was a _ding, _like the sound of a text message. Tessa knew it wasn't her phone; it would have to be Will's. "There you go. Looks like Juliet can't wait for her Romeo."

Will smirked. "Romeo, am I?"

Tessa wasn't sure whether to roll her eyes or smack him on the head with a thick book.

She settled for the latter.

"Ow!" Will complained. "That hurt, Tess."

"Good," Tessa replied primly. "And don't call me Tess."

"Violent woman, aren't you?" Will muttered, rubbing his head. "First you slap me and then you hit me on the head with a book."

"Well you deserved it," Tessa told him. "Now are you going to pay me eleven dollars or not?"

_Finally _Will got the message and paid her. "Great," Tessa sighed in relief. "Now leave."

"Is that the way you talk to all your customers, Tess?" Will teased. "Most improper conduct, I must say." To Tessa's horror, Will sank down against the wall, sitting Indian-style and making it apparent that he wasn't going to leave for quite some time.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" she asked desperately.

"Nope," Will shrugged. "I told Jem I'd meet him here at two, and considering that you're going to be all alone, I thought I'd keep you company."

"Thanks for your consideration," Tessa said tightly, "but I'm fine by myself."

Will shrugged. "Look, I have time to spare and so do you. You can either read your book while I sit here and die of boredom – or we could mutually spare each other an early demise. Your choice."

Tessa was about to pick option one – if Will didn't have some pretty girl to flirt with for forty five minutes, it wouldn't harm him – but then remembered that she had to make him fall in love with her.

_The sacrifices I make for the good of the world. _

She sank down against the wall about a metre away from Will, pulling her legs up to her chest. "If anyone comes in and looks at me weirdly," she started accusingly, "I'm telling them it's all your fault."

Will grinned. "Fair enough."

* * *

Clary could not believe her stupidity.

She had completely forgotten that Simon would be at his cousin's bar mitzvah, even though he had told her just two days ago and now she was standing in front of his empty house looking like a complete idiot.

With a sigh, Clary turned around and walked back up the pavement, pondering her options. Isabelle and Sophie would be working on their Science project and Tessa was at work...which left only Cecily.

Clary set course for the Herondales' house, hoping that she wouldn't meet Cecily's stiff-as-nails grandmother, Imogen. The first (and only) time that Clary had met her, the old lady had been most displeased at what she called Clary's 'utter lack of manners'.

But to be fair, it wasn't Clary's fault that Imogen expected everyone to say good morning instead of hello, like _normal _people did. And then when she tried to apologize, cut her off very rudely.

Miserable old bat.

The leaves were starting to fall, Clary realized distractedly, her shoes crunching over the ones that lay on the pavement. They were turning a fiery orange, a colour that made her yearn for her Prismacolour pencils and a sketch pad.

Clary was so lost in thought that she didn't even realize she was at Cecily's house until she walked smack into the door.

That was embarrassing.

Rubbing her forehead with one hand, she rang the doorbell and stepped back, waiting for Cecily to come to the door. When no one came, she rang it again, tapping her foot impatiently. What was taking Cecy so long?

When it finally opened, she sighed in relief and looked up – to come face to face with a chest. It was a very nice chest, tanned and muscular and with a six-pack, but it was also very naked.

_What the hell?!_

In her surprise, Clary took a step backward, slipped, and would have fallen on her butt if a strong arm hadn't clasped her hand and pulled her back with enough force that she collided with the aforementioned very naked chest, her hands gripping her saviour's biceps for balance as two hands gripped her waist to keep her steady.

Clary followed the arms all the way up to their source and then to the face that accompanied both the torso and arms, her eyes widening in horror when she realized whose embrace she was currently locked in.

"Well, well, Clary," Jace Herondale said, an amused smirk on his face, "I never knew you felt that way about me."

* * *

_Whew! Finally done! _

_So we've got some Wessa action and Clary falling into the arms of a shirtless Jace...what could be better? ;)_

_I'm sorry this took so long but I had to write and re-write it until I was finally satisfied with the result. I can't believe nearly sixty people, and maybe more, are reading this. That is INSANE. I love you guys, I really do. _

_Please tell me what you thought of this chapter in your review.__ Till next time!_


	4. Chapter 3

_Hello everyone! _

_I'm so sorry for the long delay but school has started again and I'm now in Secondary Three – or high school, if you prefer. This means waking up at five thirty to catch the school bus and oodles of homework to do, which is why my once fast updates now take forever. Now that my exams are over (and my results are horrible), I have much more time to write. _

_I hate school. _

_Just a warning: this chapter jumps points of view a lot. _

_Happy reading! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments or the Infernal Devices._

* * *

_"__I've got thick skin and an elastic heart, but your blade, it may be too sharp. I'm like a rubber band until you pull too hard…I may snap and I move fast. But you won't see me fall apart…because I've got an elastic heart…"_

\- _Elastic Heart, Sia_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

There are times in life when you wish dinosaurs weren't extinct and could be whistled to come and gulp you down.

And this, Clary thought, was definitely one of those times.

It wasn't bad enough that she had nearly fallen on her butt. It wasn't bad enough that her saviour had to be the one guy she hated more than anyone else in the world. It wasn't bad enough that he was shirtless. (She might not be a member of the 'I Love Jace Herondale' Association, but she had to admit – the dude was _ripped.)_

Because as she stood locked in Jace's arms, pressed chest-to-chest, she heard a scandalized gasp. Clary's head snapped up and she stared at Jace in abject horror, her own panic reflected in his eyes.

"Please tell me your grandmother is not standing behind us," she whispered, both of them united for a moment in their shared fear.

He swallowed. "My grandmother is not standing behind us."

_"__JONATHAN HERONDALE!"_

Jace and Clary sprang apart as if invisible strings had wrapped around them and jerked them away. Clary could see Jace wordlessly mouthing '_oh shit' _over and over again.

She wondered if she should call 911 to report the brutal double murder that was soon about to occur on the doorstep of the Herondale house.

Imogen was standing on the pathway, her mouth wide open, her cheeks slowly reddening in anger. Her hair was slowly coming undone from the stern bun she had pinned it up in, strands falling down to frame her face. A bag of fruits lay on the ground, a few oranges rolling out onto the cement.

Clary smoothed down her clothes, widened her eyes and tried to look as innocent as possible.

_I am so screwed. _

* * *

Jem had just left his house when he felt his phone vibrate.

He pulled it out and read his best friend's message as he walked, his frown deepening the further he read until he sighed and shoved it back into the pocket of his jeans.

He was having a hard time deciding what to do.

On one hand, Will was his best friend – the guy he'd known since he was seven years old. Under all the flirting and careless, _I-will-break-your-heart _attitude Jem knew Will was a genuinely good person – even if he didn't believe it himself.

His thoughts turned to Tessa.

They had dated once, but broken it off after a few months, realizing that they were better off as friends than a couple. Of course he loved Tessa – he doubted there was anyone who truly knew her who couldn't love her – but only as the little sister he never had.

What kind of friend would he be if he allowed Tessa to get played by Will?

Jem paused for a moment, his mind torn. He couldn't go on like this, sitting on the fence between Tessa and Will, knowing irrevocably that one of them would be damaged beyond repair if he didn't do something. Who to choose?

Kind, caring Tessa, who had already faced enough hardship in her life?

Or flirty, cocksure Will, who was hurting more than he'd ever let anyone see?

Jem sighed. Whoever he chose, the consequences were not going to be pretty.

* * *

Will had many plans for his Sunday but spending an hour with Tessa Gray – the girl who drove him mad – was certainly not one of them.

He could see why so many guys were interested in her – with her long legs and curvy figure and penetrating silver-blue eyes, she was completely knockout gorgeous.

Hell, Jem – his best friend, who had never shown the slightest bit of interest in a girl before – had dated her. Now if he could just get her to fall for him – show the slightest sign of being attracted to him, even – then everything would be just fine.

_Really? And what about her feelings? You want her to end up like – _

_Shut up! _

After ten years, Will had become adept at learning to steer his thoughts away from a place he didn't want them to go. He imagined a wall made of the thickest stone coming down in his mind, sectioning off the thoughts he didn't want.

It usually worked, but there were times, in his dreams, when the wall would break down and all the unwanted thoughts would flood into his head like a tsunami wave crashing down.

He stopped screaming when he was ten.

The tears didn't come anymore when he was twelve.

Now it was just the fast gasps and the memories that he tried so hard to get rid of but never could. There were nights he lay in his bed, Jace in the bunk above him, both of them perfectly aware that the other was awake but never saying a word.

They lay like that until the sun rose and the sky turned pink and gold and then Jace would get up and go like he always did for his morning run – Will knew how his brother would run, fast and furious and never stopping, as if trying to get away from the demons that chased him.

But they knew – they both knew – that there would never be an escape.

_"__Will, you're on fire!"_

Will blinked. "What?"

Tessa was looking at him exasperatedly. "Do you realize I've been calling your name for the last five minutes?"

"Oh so you _do _want my attention," he smirked. It was all a game, he reminded himself. He never lost, and he was not about to lose this time, not to Tessa of all people.

Tessa's lips drew into a thin line. "Really, can you go five minutes without being a condescending ass?"

"And there's the Tessa we all know and love," Will drawled, leaning his head back and resting it on the spines of the books behind him. "The one that can't go five minutes without insulting me."

"That's because you make it impossible." She lifted her hand up to her watch, and groaned when she saw the time. "Are you kidding me? It's only been twenty minutes?"

"I know," Will interjected brightly. "Time just flies, doesn't it?"

He saw her hands clench into fists and she took a deep breath, clearly trying not to lose her temper. He'd never seen anyone fly into a rage as often as Tessa did when he needled her. Well, except for Cecily…he'd never mess with her straighteners again.

"Of course it does." Tessa's voice dripped with sarcasm. "I'm just having the time of my life here."

"Well, if you're feeling bored, we could do something more… _fun_."

Tessa shot him a look of pure disgust. "Not a chance."

_God, is she completely immune? She can't be! How do I get through to her?_

His eyes landed on the book sitting beside him.

To tell the truth, he _had _read A Tale of Two Cities – he read all the old classics. It didn't matter whether it was Shakespeare or Charles Dickens, Will would peruse the pages late into the night until he finished the book. Only Jace knew where the secret cache of books was hidden in the bedroom they shared. He could just imagine the teasing he would receive if anyone else ever found out.

"Why Sydney?" He blurted out the question before he had time to think it through. Tessa looked puzzled (which he supposed was an improvement from disgust). "I'm sorry?"

He gestured to the book lying between the two of them. "A Tale of Two Cities. You said Sydney was your favourite character. Why?"

Tessa's eyes were far away. "He knew he didn't have a hope. He knew he could never be with Lucie, but his final act was to let her be happy with Charles for the rest of her life."

Will found himself genuinely interested; not just listening out of necessity. "And you admire that?"

"Of course." Tessa was looking down at her lap, her wavy brown hair hiding her eyes. "I mean, wouldn't you do the same, if it was someone you really loved? Wouldn't you give yourself up to save them?"

There was a desperate longing in her voice, but before Will could figure out why, she turned her head and their gazes locked.

Her eyes sparkled with tears.

* * *

The bell above the door tinkled and Jem entered the shop.

Tessa sprang to her feet, relieved beyond words. She felt furious with herself as she dug her nails into her palm, trying to get her tears under control. How could she have cried in front of _him_?

Granted, she hadn't actually let the tears fall but he had seen them; she was sure of that. He had looked genuinely taken aback.

How could she have been so _stupid_?

She was trying to play the guy, for the love of God! She couldn't let him see her weaknesses; it would just be another weapon for him to use against her. She couldn't reveal herself to Will Herondale, not now, not ever.

And she hadn't meant to. It had happened so fast.

One minute, he had been his usual annoying self, and the next he was asking her about Sydney Carton like he had really been interested in what she had to say. She cringed as she remembered her own words, spoken in that moment of weakness, hearing the desperation in them.

_Wouldn't you give yourself up to save them? _

_Survivor's guilt, _the nurses had called it, whispering when they thought she couldn't hear them. She hadn't felt anything at first, only a blank, mindless calm until Jocelyn and Clary had arrived.

And then then it had thrown itself upon her, pressing her to the ground like Atlas holding up the weight of the sky. She could remember with a harsh clarity seeing Jocelyn and Clary, their red hair a fiery contrast to the bleakness that surrounded them, their identical green eyes red-rimmed and concerned.

Tessa forced a smile on her face as she greeted Jem, giving him a quick hug. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought Will said you wouldn't be here till two?"

"I decided to come early to save you," Jem joked. "I didn't think Luke would want you to spontaneously combust inside his precious bookstore."

"My knight in shining armour," Tessa teased him, a genuine smile on her face now. "I shall forever be indebted to you."

Will walked around the counter to join them, his blue eyes disconcertingly intense. She had never seen them so speculative before, but she got the feeling he was seeing right through her, her deepest secrets revealed.

She fixed him with a stern stare. "Don't you have somewhere to be? I thought you were only staying until Jem came?"

Will shot her a level gaze. "Did I say I was staying?"

Jem's grey eyes flickered between the two of them. Tessa folded her arms across her chest and stared back, refusing to allow herself to be intimidated. "Well, go on then."

Without another word to her, Will walked out.

Jem shot her an apologetic look. "I know he can be rude, Tessa, but he wasn't always like that. He used to be a good guy, but I think, somewhere along the way, he lost himself."

Despite herself, Tessa's interest was piqued. "Used to be?"

Jem shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "It really isn't my place to tell you this. It's Will's private business." He hesitated, looking more serious than she had ever seen him.

"But he isn't the guy he makes himself out to be, Tessa. Whatever you do, remember that."

* * *

The lecture had been going on for ten minutes already and it was showing no sign of stopping. Clary and Jace sat as far apart from one another as the leather sofa allowed, carefully avoiding Imogen Herondale's fierce glare.

Really, Jace thought, she was treating them like she just found them having sex on the doorstep. Although, by her book, finding him shirtless with a girl in his arms was probably just as bad.

"I always knew you didn't have much sense," his grandmother shot him a scathing look, "but I expected you to know better, young lady." Clary ducked her head and stared at the carpet, seemingly fascinated by the boring red and blue checked pattern.

"In my time," the old lady started and Jace just managed to hold in his groan. The moment his grandmother started anything with 'in my time' he knew he was about to be treated to long, winding, reminiscence that wouldn't end for the next twenty minutes.

"Young ladies and gentlemen were definitely not allowed to spend any time with each other without a chaperone to supervise them. The atrocious things today's generation gets up to," she stopped to shake her head in disapproval, "it would never have been allowed back then. It is us ladies who have to exercise the restraint and discipline needed to keep a man in check, since they appear to _lack _these necessary qualities."

Cecily was shaking with laughter behind Imogen's back, clutching her stomach as she convulsed silently. Jace shot her a glare. _Traitor. _

_That's what you get for being such a lazy ass and not putting on a shirt. _Cecily mouthed back, grinning. _Enjoying the lecture, brother dear? _

"Yes of course, Mrs Herondale," Clary nodded subserviently. "It won't happen again, I assure you."

She sniffed disdainfully. "Make sure it does not, Cassandra."

"Em," Clary cleared her throat politely. "It's Clarissa."

Imogen waved her hand dismissively. "Same thing."

Clary didn't say anything else but Jace saw her dig her nails into her palm, biting down on her bottom lip fiercely. Her eyes flashed with anger, and Jace decided to never make any jokes about her name ever again. For all her shortness, Clary could be pretty terrifying when she was angry.

"Cecily dear," Imogen called. "Make me a cup of hot, sweet tea please. I'm going up to my room. I am rather tired…after all the morning exertions. I do wish all my grandchildren could be as well behaved as you, but one cannot have everything in life."

Not another word was spoken until Imogen reached her room and closed the door firmly.

Clary turned to Jace with a placid expression on her face. "Don't take this the wrong way, but your grandmother is a miserable old bat."

Jace shrugged and leaned back in his seat. "I guess now you know all about what a terrible grandson I am."

"Frankly, I'm not surprised," Clary told him. "I knew _someone _other than me had to dislike you. You can't get the whole world to love you, Herondale."

"Really?" Jace arched an eyebrow. "You want to bet?"

Clary rolled her eyes. "No, I do not want to bet, thank you very much. I just want you to stop being so annoying for once."

She got up from the sofa to walk past Jace, and a sudden idea struck him, a spur-of-the-moment decision. He grasped her wrist, pulling her back onto the sofa next to him.

She looked surprised, staring at him with her mouth agape. "Jace, what the – "

"What about a different kind of bet?" he asked, looking into her bright green eyes. He saw them spark with interest, and she sat back, appraising him. "What do you mean?"

"How well do you play pool?"

She blinked. "That's an extremely random question."

"Just answer it, Clary."

She frowned at him. "Well enough, I suppose. What do you want, Jace?"

"Play a game of pool with me," he suggested. "If you lose, I won't bug you for the next two months." He saw a flicker of doubt spring to life in her face, and she looked at him thoughtfully.

"And if I lose?"

A slight smirk slipped onto his face as he answered. "Go on a date with me."

* * *

_Oh snap! _

_So what do you think? Will Clary take Jace up on his offer? _

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter although it's way, way overdue – nearly five months since my last update. Once again, I apologize most sincerely but I do have a life outside of FanFiction and this cannot be my first priority all the time although I wish it could be. _

_Rest assured, the next update will be much faster. _

_So we've got a bit of history into the backgrounds of the Herondale brothers and Tessa – I'd be very interested to know what you thought about it. Is there anything I should change? Review and let me know! _

_Till next time! _


	5. Chapter 4

_It's ridiculous how happy I am being antisocial and procrastinating on my homework by writing fanfictions about fictional characters. _

_So, important news first: I am so thrilled about the new Shadowhunter TV show! I feel like the cast are perfect for the roles, and though I didn't picture Luke as Isaiah Mustafa, I'm sure he'll be a great Luke. Can't wait for the series to premiere! _

_And now that bit of fangirling is out of the way, on to the story! For the first time, I've written in Jace's point of view, so tell me what you think about that._

_Happy reading! _

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments and Infernal Devices belong to Cassandra Clare._

* * *

_"__If you fall for me, I'm not easy to please. I might tear you apart. Told you from the start, baby, from the start. I'm only going to break, break your, break break your heart. I'm only going to break, break your heart…"_

\- _Break Your Heart, Taio Cruz_

* * *

**Chapter Four **

Clary had always known that her impulsive decisions had a tendency to get her into trouble.

Like the time she'd dyed her hair blonde when she was nine and gotten grounded for a month. Jonathan had laughed himself sick at the sight of her, and she'd ended up looking like a female version of him at school the next day.

Or the time she'd decided it would be a good idea to find out if she could fly when she was five. That stunt had earned her two broken bones and a good long stay in the hospital.

So, the moment Jace challenged her to play a game of pool with him, her brain had instantly sent her the message _this is a bad idea. _

And she knew it was. Jace Herondale tended to end up being freakishly good at whatever he tried, and she didn't think her self-pride could take it if she lost to a Herondale of all people.

Going on a date with him didn't sound all that appealing either. Regardless of his ridiculously good looks, he was the most self-absorbed bastard she had ever met in her seventeen years of life and spending a couple of hours with him would likely be torturous.

But…

The plan. The pact she and Tessa had agreed on.

If Tessa – one of the most sensible people she had ever met – had agreed to play Will Herondale, if Tessa could pretend she didn't hate him and successfully get him to fall in love with her, then she, Clary, could do it too.

And she had to admit, two months of not being constantly troubled by Jace sounded like heaven.

Before she could think it through further, Clary spoke.

"Fine."

* * *

For as long as he could remember, Clary Morgenstern had always been a thorn in his side.

In sixth grade, she had shown him up in front of their entire art class by pointing out that his 'painting' was too well done to be his(he knew he shouldn't have bribed Cecily to do it for him), and Mrs Branwell had given him a zero.

In seventh grade, she'd turned down his proposal to go to junior prom to go with _Simon Lewis. _

And for the past few years, she had constantly rejected every attempt he made to ask her out.

He knew that Will had been having similar troubles with Tessa, but they didn't have the history that Jace and Clary had.

Tessa had only moved to New York three years ago from London, whereas Jace and Clary had been around each other for much longer. Jonathan had been the first person that Jace had met when he'd come to live with the Herondales. Hell, Jonathan was his best friend.

But for some reason he still hadn't figured out, Clary absolutely despised him.

Girls had always been interested in Jace Herondale. It was one of the absolute certainties in the universe. The sun rose in the east, the world continued to turn, and Jace was always sought after by hordes of girls.

But it appeared that Clary didn't like to follow the laws of the universe.

As she walked by his side down to the pool room, he wondered why short, ginger Clary Morgenstern had always been drawn his attention. Tessa was equally as uninterested in him, and yet it was always Clary who interested him more. Clary, who he wanted to figure out. Clary, who he wanted to play. _Clary, whose heart you want to break. _

He pushed down the slight twinge of guilt that rose in his mind. Guilt never got you anywhere. It made things complicated, and Jace didn't like complicated.

As he flicked on the lights in the pool room, he couldn't help the smirk that made its way onto his face. He was the master of pool. This was his home turf. No one had ever been able to beat him in a game – not even Will, who had been undisputed champion till Jace came to steal his crown.

"Sure you want to do this, midget?" Jace couldn't help asking. "You know what happens if you lose, don't you?"

Clary narrowed her piercing green eyes. "Did you just call me _short_?"

Jace shrugged. "It's a pretty well known fact, short stuff."

He watched in amusement as colour flooded Clary's cheeks, her lips pressing into a thin line as she shot him a death glare. She was so pale, she could never hide even the slightest blush – something that contrasted horribly with her fire engine red hair.

He watched as she shrugged off her jacket, throwing it across a chair in the corner of the room, and turned away to inspect the cues. His eyes flickered over her form. Clary wasn't exactly the tallest or curviest girl he had ever dated but damn, the things those jeans did to her legs…

_"__Ahem."_

His eyes shot up to find Clary smirking at him. "You planning to play anytime this century, Herondale? Or do you want to stand there and catch flies, instead?"

He walked towards and past her to the cues on the wall, pausing slightly to whisper in her ear. "Just enjoying the view, Morgenstern."

* * *

_Ignore him, Clary. He's just trying to make you lose your focus. _

She stepped up to the edge of the table, chalking up the tip of her cue as though she were painting, smoothing it across in gentle strokes. When she was done, she took off the residual chalk with a wave of her hand and turned to face Jace.

Pulling her frizzy red hair up into a ponytail, she shot him a challenging look. "Do you want to break first, or shall I?"

Jace smirked back at her (was the infuriating guy _always _smirking?"). "Ladies first."

Clary hid a grin. "Well, it's only right that you go first then."

He narrowed his golden eyes at her. "You'll pay for that one," he warned, but she could hear the amusement in his tone. "Just go, Clary."

"If you insist," she retorted before grabbing the white cue ball from his hand and bending over the table to figure out the best way to scatter as many balls as possible. She placed it on the table just a few inches away from the cue tip and rolled it back and forth between her fingers a few times, trying to get a feel of the ball.

She could almost feel Jace rolling his eyes from across the table. "I'd like to get the game finished _today _if possible, short stuff."

Taking a deep breath, Clary shot the white cue ball into the other balls, and they scattered almost instantaneously. She smiled victoriously as she managed to sink two solids and straightened up to look at Jace, who was staring at her with unbridled amazement. She could tell he'd thought she would be bad. _Score! Take that, Herondale. _

"Looks like I'm solids." She gestured to the table. "Your turn. Or do you want to back down now? Admit defeat graciously?"

She saw the fire of competitiveness roar to life in his eyes and he strode towards her, pressing her up against the pool table. "Start picking out your outfit for our date, sweetheart," he murmured into her ear. "I _never _lose."

She leaned back and smiled sweetly at him. "We'll see about that."

_Oh, it's so on. _

* * *

_He isn't the guy he makes himself out to be, Tessa. Whatever you do, remember that. _

Tessa groaned in frustration as she slammed _Jane Eyre _shut_. _Charlotte Bronte was one of her favourite authors and normally, she could lose herself in the literary world for hours, but Jem's words kept breaking into her concentration.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and took a deep breath, pushing the book back into its' shelf and glancing at the clock. It was time to pack up.

But her thoughts were elsewhere as she emptied the cash register, and locked up the store, pushing the keys into her pocket as she started to walk back down the street towards home.

Tessa huddled into herself as the wind blew furiously, whipping her long brown hair around her face, the ends curling slightly in the suddenly cold weather. Hadn't it been unbearably humid just this morning? How could the weather possibly have changed so quickly?

It was at times like these, she thought wistfully, that she missed London. She loved New York, truly she did, but sometimes she felt an ache inside herself for London and the places – the people – that she had left behind.

_"__You'll love it, Tessie, I promise…" _

Tessa felt the furious pressure of tears behind her eyelids and blinked furiously, trying to force them back. _No more crying, Tessa. You promised yourself. No more tears. _

Inexplicably, her hand went to her throat, feeling the familiar ticking of the clockwork angel hidden beneath her blue cashmere top. It was the only thing she had left of her mother – of her whole family. She remembered lying immobilised in the hospital room, paralysed by the weight of her grief, and seeing Jocelyn sitting at her bedside, placing the clockwork angel in her hand.

_"__I'm so sorry, Tessa. It was the only thing they could find that wasn't completely wrecked…"_

Against all odds, the clockwork angel had made it through unharmed and she would do the same. It wouldn't always be fine, but in the end, she knew, she would be alright.

* * *

_Fucking hell, she's good. _

Jace doubted he would have challenged Clary to a match if he knew just how kick-ass she was at pool. He'd expected her to be poor at it – maybe even average – thought it would be an easy win and a quick date achieved.

But with Clary Morgenstern, it seemed, there was no easy way out.

_Lesson learnt: Never underestimate Clary again. _

Currently, both of them were tied with five. They each needed to sink two, plus the eight ball, in order to win. And, just as additional proof that the Powers-That-Be were having a good laugh at him, the cue ball was in a horrible position.

"Giving up yet?" Clary asked, and he could hear the triumphant tone in her voice. He looked up, and they locked eyes – green into gold. "Nope," he told her casually, hoping it seemed believable. "I have this game in the bag."

He walked around the side of the table to where she was, leaning down to see if he would get a better shot at the ball. Clary scoffed. "Right, like you're going to hit _anything _in that position."

Suddenly, he was in another pool room, with another person standing by his side. _"You're never going to hit anything in that position, Jace. If the cue ball isn't in a good place, get it somewhere where it's easy for you to plan your next shot and doubly hard for your opponent."_

Not again.

He lined up the cue and took his shot but knew even as he hit that the ball wouldn't sink anything – and he was right. _Goddamn it, I have to keep this under control. _

To his surprise, Clary didn't make any sarcastic comment but walked over to the opposite side of the table and took her shot, effectively sinking two balls in one go.

_She's going to win, she's going to win…._

The thought was almost unbearable. He never lost – not at anything. And the fact that the first time he would was to Clary – the girl who hated his guts – was something he didn't think he could ever live down.

Her face was small and serious, intensely concentrated on the 8 ball. Jace was staring at it with almost equal intensity, watching as she aimed and then took her shot, the 8 ball heading straight to the end hole…

And then, at the very last minute – someone up there must have been looking out for him - it teetered at the edge of the hole, spun slightly to the side, and stopped. _Thank you, God. _

_"__SHIT!" _Clary yelled. "Are you _freaking _kidding me? At the very end?"

Jace couldn't help but laugh at the sight of her, her face furious, red curls spilling out of her ponytail as she stomped her foot. "You rigged it," she accused him. "I know you did. Spill, Herondale. _What did you do?"_

"It's not my fault if you can't sink a simple ball, short stuff. Let me show you how the professionals do it."

"Professional, my ass," Clary murmured as she leaned forward on the pool table to watch.

He winked at her. "And a very nice one it is too."

Her cheeks flamed as she reached across and smacked his shoulder, glaring daggers at him. "I hope the cue ball falls in," she spat angrily. "Serves you right."

He managed to sink one more stripe, and then stepped back to survey the pool table. Only one more stripe and the 8 ball stood between him and victory. He could feel it dancing at the tips of his fingers.

It was like a weird showdown between all three balls – the stripe and 8 glaring at each other, and the cue ball the innocent bystander.

He could sink the stripe and then turn his attention to the 8 ball but the problem was that if he did, the cue ball would end up far at the other end of the table – and he knew his chances of sinking the 8 from there would be very slim.

And if he failed, then it would be Clary's turn and he doubted she would miss a second time.

Unless…

There was one more available option.

He could take his shot at both balls in one go – but he would need to be incredibly lucky. The cue ball would have to ricochet off the end of the table at the exact angle to send the stripe crashing into the 8 and sink both at the same time – and yet if he exerted too much force, the cue ball would fall in as well and then all would be ruined.

Very difficult situation. Very difficult indeed.

But it was the only hope he had.

He perused the table from all angles, intensely looking for the right place to start the chain reaction and set him on the path to victory. Clary groaned in frustration. "It isn't rocket science, Jace. Can you just hit the damn ball already?"

"Patience, midget," Jace said absentmindedly as he stopped to brush some more chalk over the cue tip. "All good things come to those who wait."

_This is it. _

With bated breath, he lined up the cue ball with the tip, checking to see that he was pointing in the right angle. He could sense Clary's eyes on him, willing him to mess up, and yet he could hear Edmund's voice in the back of his head as well. _Always keep your focus on the end goal. That's how you win. _

He shot.

The cue ball spun across the pool table and smacked into the edge, catapulting back towards the stripe and slamming into it, knocking it in the direction of the 8. He could hear Clary's low oath, but his full attention was on the trajectory of the stripe. It was heading in the right direction, just a few more inches, just a few more…

And then it slammed into the 8 ball, knocking it into the hole, and he heard the clash of it falling on the other balls already racked up inside. To his horror, he noticed the speed of the stripe slowly decreasing as it rolled towards the hole, threatening to stop at the edge just as the 8 ball had done with Clary. _Shit_, _I used too little force, it's not going to make it. _

And then, at the very last moment before the ball stopped moving altogether, paused right at the edge, it teetered just the slightest bit…

_Come on, come on, come on. _

And fell in.

* * *

_So, how many of you saw that coming? _

_I hope the pool battle wasn't really boring, and I'm sorry if I got certain things wrong – I am not a professional, and it's been months since I played. _

_I really should do something about my social life. _

_I'm sorry for the lack of Wessa in this chapter - since Wessa got their chance in the last chapter, it's only fair to give Clace their shot. But hey, Tessa's clockwork angel has entered the picture! Any theories about what might have happened to Tessa in London? Or the histories of the Herondale brothers? _

_Also, I'm really curious to know: where are you guys from? Do I have any readers from parts of the world other than Asia? Please leave a review telling me where you're from, because I truly am interested. (I know I sound like a total creeper, apologies). _

_And as always, tell me what you thought about the chapter, any criticism, and your opinion about the Shadowhunters TV show! _

_Till next time! _


	6. Chapter 5

_So guess who finished a long gruelling week of exams, probably failed everything, and now is wasting her time on the FanFiction? _

_Yep, yours truly. _

_Real talk though, I was super amazed that so many of you were from Europe and America! This is truly awe-inspiring, that people halfway across the world are reading my story and (hopefully) enjoying it. _

_You all mean so much to me, and thank you so much for reading. Virtual hugs for all of you. _

_And now, on to the story. _

_Happy reading! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or The Infernal Devices._

* * *

_"__I knew you were trouble when you walked in, so shame on me now. I flew me to places I've never been, till you put me down, oh. I knew you were trouble when you walked in, so shame on me now. I flew me to places I've never been…now I'm lying on the cold hard ground…"_

\- _I Knew You Were Trouble, Taylor Swift_

* * *

**Chapter Five**

_"__Then must you speak of one that loved not wisely but too well, of one not easily jealous but, being wrought, perplexed in the extreme; of one whose hand, like the base Indian, threw a pearl away…"_

The book dropped from Will's hand to the floor beside the bed, and he flung himself onto his back, staring blindly up at the ceiling.

_Othello _was not a book he particularly enjoyed, or cared for really, but he found himself strangely drawn to the characters.

This was, after all, the first book his mother had ever read to him. It was an odd thing to do, reading a book about jealousy and despair – a book where nearly all the main characters died – to a five year old, but Will had always liked hearing his mother's lilting, melodic voice.

Sometimes, in hindsight, Will wondered if he ought to have seen what was coming, seen it in the way she withdrew further into herself, how she read only stories with tragic endings, how she was losing herself with each passing day.

_Stop. _

He raked his hand through his hair in frustration and sat up, burying his face in his hands. It was rarely now that the familiar despair came over him, pulling him down with it into the gaping abyss that had been a common place in his childhood.

What he needed was a distraction.

He already had his phone halfway to his ear, dialling Jessie's number – the girl could be a right bitch at times, but she kissed like a pro – before a pair of tear-filled silver-blue eyes filled his mind.

God-_fucking_-dammit.

He cast the phone down in annoyance, and shut his eyes, but for some reason, the image of Tessa's face in the bookstore seemed imprinted into his head.

Will had tried to ignore it, but he couldn't help the curiosity. What on earth had possessed Tessa – ice queen Tessa - to break down like that? And in front of him, of all people?

_Wouldn't you do the same? If it was someone you really loved? _

Will smiled the way Lucifer might have smiled moments before he fell from Heaven. _Oh Tessa, you have no idea. _

* * *

_That lying, cheating bastard! _

Clary barely noticed that she was being soaked to the bone as she strode down the street, her fists clenched at her sides. Sometime during their pool battle it had started to storm, and the rain was lashing down with force, thunder crashing, but she couldn't care less.

"CLARY!"

_Walk faster._

"Clary, wait!"

Clary could hear the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, and, abandoning all pretence, she started to run, stumbling slightly on the slippery pavement. Even as she fled, she could hear Jace coming closer and cursed him inwardly. _Screw you, Herondale. Why are you so damn fast? _

His hand closed around her wrist in a vicelike grip, and jerked her to a stop.

"Clary, just wait. Please."

_Did I just hear right? Did Jace Herondale say please? _

She hadn't even known the word was in his vocabulary.

She'd never heard Jace say please before to anyone, so whatever he had to say, it had to mean a lot to him. She turned to face him, craning her neck to look up at his six foot two frame.

"What?" she spat through gritted teeth.

Jace released her wrist and ran a hand through his rain-dampened hair. He seemed to be having an internal debate with himself. Finally, he sighed and looked down at her. "Clary, listen, if you want we can have a rematch. I didn't think it meant so much to you."

"Nice try," Clary scoffed. "Then you can brag you bet me twice. Not a chance in hell." She turned to go, but he clasped her hand again. "Clary, I mean it. If you want, we can play again."

She hesitated, suspicious, but she found no hint of mockery in his golden eyes. They were sincere. Jace was telling the truth.

Clary was amazed.

This had to be some kind of global record. Jace Herondale could actually be nice. Who would have thought?

The word yes was on the tip of her tongue, but something held her back. She hadn't thought through her decision before, but now the options were crystal clear in front of her.

If they played again and she won, he wouldn't bother her for two whole weeks. That sounded like heaven. And yet was it really in her best interests, considering the terms of the plan?

And if she lost, her dignity would be shredded. Not to mention, she would have to listen to Jace go on about how he'd won not just once, but twice and she really wasn't in the mood. She would end up going on a date with him anyway.

And although being on a date with Jace sounded like hell, it gave her more opportunities to make him fall in love with her. Wasn't that what she and Tessa were working for?

She couldn't throw this golden opportunity away. Regardless of personal preferences, Jace needed to know the consequences of breaking someone's heart.

Clary looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. "And spend another hour in that pool room with you? No way, Herondale."

She saw a disbelieving expression flash across Jace's face before he schooled it back into his signature smirk. "Guess we're going on a date then, Morgenstern."

Clary rolled her eyes. "Don't get too excited. I want to compromise."

A hint of suspicion crossed his face. "Compromise on what?"

Clary couldn't believe she was actually considering this. Going on a date with Jace was against her very DNA, but the plan was more important. "If I go on a date with you," she warned, "then you can't irritate me for the next week. That's the price you pay for cheating. Got it?"

Jace gave her an appraising look. "Looks like you're actually a good negotiator, Morgenstern. Who would have thought?"

Clary gave him a look.

"Alright fine," Jace acceded. "You go on a date with me on Friday, and I won't be an asshole to you for the next week."

Clary crossed her arms. "Where are we going anyway?"

Jace leaned down, and she instinctively took a step backwards. He was so close she could see every single individual raindrop clinging to his eyelashes, making his gold eyes seem even darker. For an insane minute, she thought he was about to kiss her before he bent past her lips to whisper in her ear. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

* * *

Tessa began to write just as the thunder crashed.

Her hand shook and the pen scrawled an ugly black mark across her English Lit essay, blotting out most of the words she had just written.

"Damn it," Tessa muttered in annoyance as she crossed out the entire line, cursing the thunder, and her own inability to focus.

She rubbed her forehead and pressed the nib of the pen to the paper again, but her mind had gone totally, completely blank. She re-read the essay question, trying to think past the pounding headache she was suffering from. A Tale of Two Cities was one of her favourite topics of discussion and normally she could write about it for hours, but today her thoughts were elsewhere.

With a sigh of defeat, Tessa slammed the pen down and put her head in her hands.

The clockwork angel swung free from her sweater, dangling back and forth like a pendulum until she unclasped it and turned it over in her hands.

It had been her mother's wedding gift, a memento from her husband that she had cherished. She had always worn it, even when she slept, and she had kept the clockwork angel in pristine condition.

The angel itself was not very big, about the size of her pinky finger. It was a tiny statuette made of brass with folded bronze wings no larger than a cricket's. It had a delicate metal face with closed crescent eyelids and hands crossed over a sword in front. A thin chain that looped under the wings allowed the angel to be worn around the neck like a locket.

Tessa didn't even realize she was crying until the first of her tears dripped onto the stone-cold face of the angel. She wiped them away quickly, angry at herself. How many times was she going to cry today?

But that was grief – a monster that could never be killed, no matter how many tears you shed or how much pain it caused you. It crept up on her at the moments she expected it least, shortening her breaths, the unbearable weight of it crushing her. Sometimes she thought she was perfectly all right and other times, like now, it felt like that old wound had been ripped open again, new and fresh like it had been in that hospital bed back in London.

For three years, the clockwork angel had been her only link to her family. There were still times when she bolted upright in the middle of the night, terrified that she'd forgotten the precise blue of Nate's eyes, or the tinkling sound of her mother's laughter.

The thunder crashed again outside and her thoughts flashed back to another rainy afternoon, the sound of tyres screeching and terrified screaming filling her head, her fingers tightening around the wings of the clockwork angel until she was aware of blood dripping down her palm.

_Snap out of it, Tessa. Snap out of it right now! _

Tessa took a deep breath, her fingers relaxing, closing her eyes and bundling up the memories again, locking them away into the deepest recesses of her brain.

She lay the clockwork angel down on the desk, walking to the bathroom to wash off the blood and clean the cuts, looking up at the mirror to meet her own grey eyes. They were the same colour as the overcast sky and the rain lashing down outside, the same colour as her mother's.

Averting her eyes, Tessa shut off the water and walked back to her room.

* * *

"Was that _Clary_ you just chased outside?"

Jace closed the door behind him and shrugged off his soaked jacket as he turned to face Cecily. "So?"

_"__So?"_ Cecily stared at him incredulously. "Jace, I've never seen you do that for anyone. Not even your constant barrage of backup prostitutes."

Jace laughed despite himself. "Backup prostitutes?"

Cecily put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Come on, Jace! You know that's what they are. You only ever call them when you want to get laid."

Jace ignored the twinge of guilt this caused. "Do you hear them complaining?"

"The only thing I hear them do," Cecily said with barely constrained irritation, "is moan your name when you're banging them in your bedroom."

Jace raised an eyebrow. "Classy."

"Jace!" his sister cried in exasperation. "I'm being serious! When are you ever going to realize what your actions do to those girls?"

Jace looked down into Cecily's flashing blue eyes. "Look Cecy," he said quietly. "I've told you before. Whatever you want to say, save it. Don't try to make me feel guilty for what I've done, or will do. Those girls know exactly what they're getting into. They get it – no strings attached. Now leave the subject alone."

He walked past her and was nearly halfway up the staircase when she spoke again. "But does Clary?"

He paused. "Does Clary what?"

"Does Clary know what she's getting into?"

He turned around, choosing his words carefully. "Meaning?"

"Clary isn't that kind of girl," Cecily said, dead serious. "She isn't on speed dial to call when you're horny like the rest of your sluts. So whatever game it is you're playing, Jace, leave her out of it."

"I'm not playing any game with her," Jace rolled his eyes. "Relax, Cecy."

He headed upstairs. Cecily was left standing at the bottom of the stairs, a thoughtful look in her dark blue eyes as she gazed at the retreating figure of her older brother.

She had known Jace for six years ever since he had come to live with them at the age of 12. She remembered how closed off he had been since he had first arrived, cruel and vindictive to everyone and everything who had crossed his path. She remembered how he had pushed away every person who tried to get close to him, to comfort him, how he seemed to hate Will with a passion – a feeling that had been mutual.

The Jace she had met six years ago wasn't very different from the Jace she knew today, but chasing after Clary, a girl he didn't even like?

Her brother didn't chase after anyone. He expected girls to pursue him, not the other way around.

Something had definitely changed, Cecily decided.

And she intended to find out what.

* * *

_Detective Cecily is on the case! _

_So, what did you think of this chapter? I've given you guys a little bit of a clue into what might have happened to Tessa and her family before she moved to New York, as well as Will and Jace's history. Do let me know what you think about it! _

_I love hearing all your theories, so keep them coming! _

_Also, do review and tell me what you think about the Shadowhunters TV show! I loved the trailers as well as the new behind the scenes clips they've released! Emeraude Toubia is my new queen - talk about being Isabelle to the life! Who's your favourite cast member? _

_Till next time! _


	7. Chapter 6

_Hey guys! _

_I cannot believe it's been over a year since I first started this fanfic. Everyone give me a huge amount of applause for my amazingly fast updates (note the sarcasm). So my goal for 2016 – early as it is – is probably to try to update faster because I am useless at it. _

_A few of you have expressed confusion over how everyone is related, and don't worry – all shall be explained. Since the last chapter was a lot of Clace, this chapter will be more Wessa. _

_Happy reading! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or Infernal Devices._

* * *

_"__Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of it. I just got too lonely, lonely, whoa. In between being young and being right, you were my Versailles at night. It was the fourth of July, you and I were, you and I were fire, fire, fireworks that went off too soon..." _

\- _Fourth of July, Fall Out Boy_

* * *

**Chapter Six **

Tessa had always enjoyed English Lit lessons.

Mr Wayland was a great teacher, and since the book they happened to be discussing for the term was her favourite book of all time, Tessa had been overjoyed.

Unfortunately, she had not counted on Will Herondale taking English Lit as his elective lesson – although he was a whole year ahead – and as a result, her sanity had been sorely tested to the point she considered bringing a hacksaw to class and chopping off his overly inflated head.

So when Tessa had walked into English Lit that Tuesday morning – exactly a week after the pact had been made – she was fully expecting his constant barrage of flirtatious remarks, and snide comments.

But she was in for a shock.

When Tessa walked into class, Will was actually seated _at his table, _flicking through the book flat open on his table with intense concentration, instead of leaning on some random girl's table and chatting her up. Normally, this verbal mating ritual would only end when Mr Wayland walked into the room, and after a quickie in a supply closet and a week of hanging on his arm, the poor girl would be dropped like a hot potato and left to pick up the shattered pieces of her heart.

Tessa could tell that her surprise was shared by the other members of the class; Elspeth Mayburn exchanged a confused look with her friend before sauntering over to Will and leaning down to place her elbows on the table, saying something Tessa couldn't hear but knew very well was suggestive, if her raised eyebrows and exposed cleavage were anything to go by.

Will turned a blindingly charming smile up to Elspeth, and said something to her that had her turning strawberry red and hurrying back to her seat.

Tessa could practically feel the ripples of shock resounding around the classroom, and was aware that her mouth was partially open. Had _Will Herondale _just turned down an offer for sex?

The world had to be ending, Tessa thought faintly. There was no other explanation for what had just happened.

Mr Wayland walked into the room, effectively putting an end to all discussion of the newest spectacle that had just occurred. But as Tessa flipped open her book and copied down the theme they would be discussing that day, she couldn't help but wonder what exactly Will was up to.

* * *

Will had no idea that wooing Tessa would be so hard.

He could practically feel his brain screaming obscenities at him for turning Elizabeth down – the girl may have air for brains, but she certainly had a nice rack – but if he wanted to make Tessa fall for him, he needed to fool her into thinking that he had changed.

No more flirting. No more hook-ups. No more sex.

Will almost wanted to back out of the pact, but the chance to make frosty, stick-up-her-arse Tessa Gray fall for him was too good to pass up.

The only problem was, Will was no closer to his end goal than he was one week ago.

Whatever his faults, Will had always been good at reading people, figuring out what made them tick. He was no wilting wallflower, but he had realised long ago that it was always better to stay in the shadows and observe a little before going in for the kill.

But no matter how long he had observed Tessa, she remained the same as always – quiet, reserved, but feisty when she had to be. He knew she was loyal to her friends, that she loved to read, and most importantly – hated him.

What he didn't know was how to get that icy wall around her to break down.

Will listened idly to the discussion Mr Wayland was conducting in class about Sydney Carton, the doomed antihero of the book. Their English Lit teacher always liked to conduct his lessons like a debate, and today was no exception. Aline Penhallow had just finished her argument when Tessa spoke.

"I don't agree, Aline," she said in a quiet voice that somehow exuded confidence. "I think that, although Sydney may not have been an entirely good person, his love for Lucie was his redeeming quality. He could not be with Lucie, but he wanted her to be happy. His love for her was so great that he was willing to sacrifice his own happiness, and his life, for it. Instead of allowing the fact that she loved another man to sink him into bitterness and hatred, he chose to give her that chance to be happy."

"A very good point, Tessa," Mr Wayland smiled at her. "Now moving on, I have some bad news. I will be assigning you a project based on this book."

There were groans and protests throughout the class, but Mr Wayland quelled them with a firm look. "You will work in pairs, and the project is due in exactly two weeks. I want you to compile information about the partner you're working with, and then write a story about them in the world of A Tale of Two Cities as a supporting character. I have already written out a list of questions to ask your partner, but additional ones are fine as well. I want to see the use of at least two literary devices we have discussed so far in your story. Am I clear?"

The class indicated assent, and murmurs broke out as people turned to choose their partners. Will exchanged a look with Jem, who was sitting diagonally to him. The two boys had always partnered up for projects, and this time would be no different.

That was when Mr Wayland dropped a bombshell.

"I forgot to mention one more thing," he said, looking as if he were trying not to smile. "I have already picked the pairs and there will be no changing."

There was an outpouring of complaints and annoyed exclamations, but as it seemed that Mr Wayland was determined not to change his mind, the students reluctantly accepted his decision and waited to hear who their partners were.

"Aline Penhallow and Helen Blackthorn."

"Isabelle Lightwood and Simon Lewis."

"James Carstairs and Katherine Church."

_Damn. _There went his chances of being paired with Jem.

Mr Wayland's mouth quirked up as he read the next pair of names.

"Will Herondale and Tessa Gray."

* * *

Jace knew he was good at a lot of things.

He was damn amazing at pool.

He was a professional in bed.

He could sight-read piano pieces effortlessly.

He also happened to be smart, hot, and have killer abs.

What he was _not _good at, however, was art.

As a senior, Jace had the option of picking Literature, Art, or Music as his elective subject. He wasn't like Will, who loved books, and he highly doubted there was anything anyone could teach _him_ in Music.

So he'd made the mistake of picking art.

What he had forgotten, however, was that Clary Morgenstern also took art.

And damn, could the girl draw.

Jace would never admit it to her, but Clary had serious skill. Jonathan and Jace were best friends, so he'd been around at the Morgensterns before and seen her bent over her sketchpad, a look of intense concentration on her face as her pencil flew over the paper.

He'd realized long ago that Clary had talent, more than anyone he'd ever met. She could make the most mundane things appear real and alive, could capture the likeness of a person's face in just a few short strokes.

Unfortunately for him, art was not his forte.

And Clary never let him forget it.

"What's that supposed to be?" she snickered now, peering over his shoulder to look at his sketchpad. "It looks like a zombie duck."

"Shut it," the blonde grumbled. "It's not my fault I don't have any inspiration. And ducks are special to me."

Their art teacher, Mrs Fairchild, had assigned them to draw something that was special to them. Clary, of course, had started sketching almost immediately.

Jace had stared at the paper for a good twenty minutes and, when he noticed Mrs Fairchild walking around, started drawing random curves and lines in an effort to appear like he was doing work.

"Ducks are special to you?" Clary raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes," Jace said firmly. "I have a special hatred for them."

The redhead rolled her eyes. " It's not such a hard assignment, Jace. Surely, you must have something you care about?"

"Apart from me?"

Clary fixed him with a look.

"Fine," Jace threw down his pencil with a disgruntled sigh. "I don't know."

Clary tapped her own pencil against his chin thoughtfully. "What do you like?"

Jace contemplated for a minute. "Sex."

Clary whacked his shoulder hard. "Be serious."

"Music," he shrugged. "That's the only thing I can think of right now."

"Okay, then do something with that," Clary instructed. "Draw maybe a piano, or some musical notes or something. It doesn't have to be fancy. It just has to be something true to you. That's what art is about."

To his surprise, Jace found himself genuinely interested in what Clary was saying. Maybe it was the passion he could see in her green eyes, or the way she moved her hands as she talked, or the simple contentedness on her face, but he wanted to hear more.

"Is that why you like it? Because it's true?"

Clary stopped to consider the question. "Not exactly. I like it because art can be anything. Some people like to say paintings or art pieces have a deep meaning behind it, but I always like to take it as it is. I think drawing, or painting, or even just splashing colours onto canvas, is just a way of expressing your feelings. Words can be faked, but you can't lie through art. You can't draw or paint something and not have it reflect what you're feeling. Art is a form of expression, and that means it can be anything. Even your zombie duck."

"It's not a zombie duck," Jace protested out of instinct, but he wasn't thinking of ducks, or even Clary. He was remembering another woman who, ten years ago, had lifted him onto her lap with a smile, and spoken of her paintings with just as much passion as Clary just had. A woman who had been as petite as Clary, but with blonde hair instead of red, and golden eyes instead of green.

The resemblance was gone as quickly as it came, but just for that moment, Clary Morgenstern had reminded Jace of his mother.

* * *

To say Tessa was shocked would be an understatement.

She was horrified.

She was, quite possibly, more horrified than when she had discovered that Clary had borrowed a book from the library three years ago and never returned it. (And in Tessa's mind, that was one of the biggest crimes a person could possibly commit.)

In fact, Tessa had been about to fall at her teacher's feet and beg him not to pair her with Will bloody Herondale (and she would do anything if he would just grant her that one big favour) when a very Clary-like voice in her head stopped her.

_Theresa Gray! _The voice shrieked. _Are you mad?! This is the opportunity you've been waiting for! So what if you have to deal with Will for two weeks? If Clary can go on a date with Jace, you can partner Will in this project. What do you have to lose? _

_My sanity, _Tessa grumbled silently, but kept her mouth shut. She could do this. Taking a deep breath, she turned to her right.

"I guess we're partners then."

To her amazement, Will smiled at her. An actual, honest-to-goodness smile, without mockery, or flirtatiousness. "Great."

What was the world coming to?

"Great?" Tessa asked, preparing for the barrage of flirtatious remarks that would surely follow.

"Yeah," Will started to gather up his books and Tessa realized that the bell had already rung to signal the end of class. She followed suit, moving on muscle memory. "Since you've clearly read this book end-to-end, you're an expert in the world of seventeenth century France, aren't you? We can ace this project in no time."

"I – thanks," Tessa replied faintly, feeling as if she were going mad. Surely she and Will couldn't be having a civil conversation, could they?

"So when do you want to meet up?"

Tessa gave herself a little shake to snap out of it. "After school today?" she suggested. "I want to get it done with as soon as possible."

"Sure." Will stepped back to let her exit the classroom first, and Tessa really started to feel like she were in a dream. Not only was Will being polite, he was also acting...nice.

She wondered if some imposter had taken over the real Will's body.

"We can discuss at my house – oh wait, no, Clary and Simon have their Star Wars marathon tonight. We could go to Java Jones – "

"Why not just come over to mine?" Will suggested. "I think Jonathan is coming over to play video games, so you'll have a ride home too."

"Okay then," Tessa agreed. "I'll meet you by the front doors after school."

Will winked at her as he turned to go. "It's a date."

* * *

_Well, well, well. _

_There are quite a few developments in this chapter. _

_Will and Tessa get paired on a project together, which means they'll be spending a lot more time together over the next two weeks (*wink wink*) and Clace had a bonding moment! What do you think happened to Jace's mother? _

_I know that the relations between our main characters are a bit confusing, but I have done it on purpose. Tessa and Clary _are_ related, and so are Will and Jace. If you have any theories, I'd love to hear them!_

_Now, Will and Tessa's project require them to ask questions about each other, so I'm giving you guys the chance to come up with the questions to ask! If there's anything you want to know about the characters backgrounds and histories, here's your chance. I will pick the most interesting and unique questions, and the people whose questions I pick will be credited next chapter. I look forward to reading them! _

_Till next time!_


	8. Chapter 7

_First of all, happy 2016!_

_Note to self: Stop being a jerk and update faster. There, New Years' resolution done. _

_I swear, I am having so much fun with this story, and I have tons of drama, heartbreak, and fluff planned for our favourite characters...so be prepared for a wild ride. _

_Thanks to PurpleAi and finlizabeth123 for your questions! I will be using them in this chapter and the next. _

_Happy reading!_

* * *

_"__When you feel my heat, look into my eyes. It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide. Don't get too close, it's dark inside. It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide..." _

\- _Demons, Imagine Dragons_

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

From the moment he had opened his big, fat mouth, Clary had hated Jace Herondale.

They'd first met in sixth grade, when Jace and Will had transferred to her middle school. She'd been walking down the hallway to her locker when someone had abruptly slammed into her, sending her flying backwards and slamming her butt on the floor.

Someone with messy blonde hair and a blindingly charming smile.

Six years later, Clary could still remember the vivid embarrassment of being thrown onto the floor, everyone around her laughing as Jace shot her a cool, amused look and then proceeded to ask if the mop of red hair falling over her face had impaired her vision(although he worded it much more crudely).

The Clary of today would have fired back a sassy response and held her head high, but face to face with one of the most attractive boys she had ever seen – along with a low self esteem about her ginger hair – had caused her to blush furiously and flee the scene, close to tears.

That was the moment, she vowed, that she would never fall for Jace's charms.

Maybe that was what had helped her resist Jace when he'd played girl after girl, all of them practically falling over themselves to get into his bed. She'd never been able to forget how cruel he had been to her the first time they'd met, or how insignificantly he'd treated her the years after.

Jonathan and Jace had been fast friends from the moment they met but it was only the summer after she'd turned 14 that Jace had shown any sort of interest in her other than mocking her or making fun of her.

She wasn't sure which was worse.

But today's art class...

That moment just after she'd finished talking about art, that moment when he had looked at her and she had been able to read his face like an open book – that image had superimposed itself into her brain, unable to be forgotten.

For that fleeting instant, she had seen something in his face, in his shadowed eyes. Something that looked a lot like pain, something that implied he was no stranger to how cruel life could be. Something that suggested perhaps Jace had a lot more to him than she had originally thought.

* * *

The Herondale house was one of the most beautiful buildings Tessa had ever seen.

Of course, she and Clary were frequent visitors to the three storey high mansion, but she'd only ever seen the foyer, and Cecily's room. She knew that the Herondales were well off, but their house practically screamed _filthy stinking rich_.

It looked like one of those homes you'd see in glossy magazines while in the waiting room at the dentist's, set at the very end of the street and towering over all the nearby houses. It was huge and sprawling, every inch of it perfect – from the oak front doors to the sloped, white-tiled roof. The ivy winding up the side of the walls and the balcony on the top floor added an old-timey, Victorian feel to it.

Will's room, he explained to her as they walked in, was on the top floor and shared with Jace. Jonathan and Jace had decided to go over to the Morgensterns' to play video games instead, so Will and Tessa had the place to themselves.

Both of them were quiet as they climbed the spiralling marble staircase to the top, Will running his hand through his already messy hair as he opened the door to let Tessa in.

The room was wide and spacious. There was a bunk bed against one wall, the mattress below pristine and beautifully made, while the one on top was a rumpled tangle of sheets. Tessa rolled her eyes, guessing which one was Will's.

There were two desks at opposite sides of the room, with a door next to the bed that Tessa guessed lead into a closet. The two French doors between the desks opened out onto a balcony with a view of the woods that stretched out beyond the house. The walls were painted a lovely cream colour that must have been Imogen's choosing.

"Wow," she smiled as she turned back to Will, who was watching her with amusement. "This is a beautiful room."

Will shrugged. "It's not that beautiful anymore when you see it every day. Let's get started."

Tessa was slightly taken aback by the fast subject change, but acquiesced and turned to her bag to pull out her favourite spiral notebook and the question paper Mr Wayland had given them.

After all, the sooner they were done with this project, the less time she had to spend in Will's company.

* * *

"You're going on a date with Jace."

"Yes."

"As in, the guy who acts like a jerk, made your life a misery for the past six years, and thinks he's God's gift to the world."

"Yes."

"The blonde guy."

"Yes."

"Are you sure we're talking about the same Jace?"

"How many insufferable blonde flirts can there be in our school, Simon?"

Simon squinted at her. "Are you really Clary and not an alien in her body who's about to kill me and take over the planet?"

"Simon, if you don't stop asking me stupid questions I will end up strangling you and I won't even regret it."

"Liar. You won't be able to find another best friend like me."

Scowling, Clary grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl between them and fixed her eyes on the television screen. What was the point of having a best friend when they insisted on giving you the Spanish Inquisition instead of being supportive?

"Look, Simon. I didn't say a thing when you and Isabelle started going out – "

"_For the last time, _it was _one _date – "

"So you admit it was a date?"

"It was a _study_ date. For a Lit test. It doesn't mean we like each other."

"Simon, you split _two _biscottis with her. _Two. _You don't even let me share a biscotti with you."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Simon, I've known you since we were six and we both had the same blue lunchbox for break. I can tell when you're lying, Lewis."

Clary would never admit it, but Simon and Isabelle had always been her secret real life OTP, and she was determined to get them together, come hell or high water.

"Fine," Simon mumbled, slumping so low on the couch all she could see was the top of his head over the popcorn bowl. "I like her."

Clary gave herself an imaginary pat on the back. _Phase One: Complete. Phase Two: Get them to admit their feelings to each other. _

"Why don't you just tell her?" Clary prodded. "I'm sure Isabelle likes you too."

"Get real, Clary!" Simon slumped back on the couch. "Isabelle Lightwood doesn't go for guys like me. She likes bad boys, rule-breakers, not boys who do homework assignments two days ahead of time and wears graphic T-shirts. She goes for guys like...your brother."

Clary nearly spewed popcorn all over the floor. _"Jonathan?" _

"Yes, little sister?"

Clary jumped off the couch, upsetting the bowl of popcorn all over Simon. "Clary!" her best friend protested. "This was my last bag!"

"Jonathan, what are you doing here?"

Her brother waved the Xbox controller at her. "Going to play video games?"

Clary crossed her arms over her chest. "Not here, you're not. You know Tuesday is our movie marathon night. Go to the basement, Jon."

"Clary, you know the sound system in the basement sucks."

"Well, it's not my fault Dad never gets the stupid thing replaced. Go take that up with him."

"Dad isn't here right now," her brother argued. "Why don't you go to the basement?"

"We're watching Star Wars, brother dear," Clary fired back. "How are we supposed to watch a movie when the sound keeps crackling every two seconds? Lip-read?"

"Clary, I'm not sure if you know this, but there's this great invention some dude came up with. They're called subtitles."

"Well, why don't you turn on the subtitles then? You don't even need the sound! You just want to hear the zombies squelching when they die, and that's disgusting."

"Is there a problem, Clary?"

Jace strolled into the room, smiling at her as he came to stand beside her brother. His eyes were like melted butterscotch, reminding her of a child hoping to get ice cream before dinner.

Clary's green eyes narrowed at the two blondes. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Don't even _try _schmoozing me, Herondale. Get out of here, both of you. You know Mom's rule. We got here first. We get the rights to use it for the night."

"Well, Mrs Morgenstern isn't here now, is she?" Jace cut in, smiling like an angel. "So I'm pretty sure there's nothing she can do about it."

"She may not," Clary agreed, her lips curling into a smirk. _Time to pull out the big guns._ "But if you don't go to the basement Jon, I'll show Camille The Thing."

Jonathan's face blanched.

_I _knew_ that would come in handy some day. _

When Clary was in middle school, her dad had come home one day with a Polaroid camera for her and Jonathan to play with. Of course they'd goofed around with it, taking silly selfies and candid shots, but Clary had struck gold when she'd snapped a picture of her brother making out with her favourite childhood Barbie doll.

With tongue.

She'd saved the photo for years, knowing that it was prime blackmail material. Showing the photo to his long-time crush Camille Belcourt would mean the end of his reputation, dignity, and honour. (His words, not hers. Fourteen year old boys could be so dramatic.)

Jace looked back and forth between the two siblings. "What's The Thing?"

"Nothing," Jon snapped. "Let's go to the basement, Jace."

"But – "

"I said basement. We don't want to hang around these geeks, anyway."

The moment the two boys left, Simon turned to look at her with an awed expression on his face. "Diabolical, Morgenstern. I'm impressed."

"Of course you are," Clary quipped as she curled up on the sofa. "And don't you forget it."

* * *

"So shall I ask you first?" Tessa asked ten minutes later, sprawled on the carpet in the centre of the room. Will was sitting opposite her, leaning against the bed with his legs stretched out before him.

Tessa wrote in both their names as she waited for Will to answer, running her eyes down the list of questions. There were two sections: one to answer about yourself, and one that you answered about your partner. The first questions were pretty generic, she noticed, but the ones further along were...interesting, to say the least.

Will nodded at her to go ahead, and Tessa scanned the first question. "This is a simple one. Where were you born?"

Will hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Wales."

For a minute, she thought she had heard wrong. "Did you just say Wales?"

"No, Africa."

"_Will._"

Will looked faintly amused (but then again, Tessa thought, that was his standard expression). "Yes, I did."

"But you have an American accent."

"I've lived here for ten years, Tess. I lost the accent."

"Why did you move?"

"My mother died," Will said shortly, and Tessa thought she saw something flash in the dark blue of his eyes before he turned his head to the window. "My grandmother thought it would be best for us to make a fresh start."

Tessa didn't know what to say. The answer society had taught her was _I'm sorry, _but that didn't feel adequate enough. Not when she knew how it felt to lose someone you loved so much. Sorry did nothing to change that. It was just a word you used to fill the uncomfortable silence.

For the weeks after the accident, Tessa had been besieged by people who told her the same words over and over again.

_I'm sorry..._

_Time heals all wounds..._

_They're in a better place now..._

And so it went, on and on, until all she wanted was to scream at everyone to shut up. Their words of comfort did nothing to help her; it only drove home the fact that her family was well and truly gone and nothing would ever be the same again.

Sometimes, it was just better not to say anything at all.

"Next question then?"

"Hold on," Will stopped her. "We should both answer the questions at the same time. We'll finish faster that way."

"Okay," Tessa agreed. "I was born in London."

Will's face gave nothing away. "That's a coincidence."

"Yeah, it is," she said, wanting to go on before he asked her the inevitable question, but sure enough –

"Why did _you _move here, then?"

Tessa played with the edge of the paper, purposely not looking up at Will as she answered. "My family died in a car accident," she admitted quietly. "I didn't have any living relatives from my father's side of the family. My mother and Clary's mother were sisters, and Aunt Jocelyn invited me to live with them. The other choice was foster care, so I accepted."

Of course, she didn't tell Will the entire truth. How she'd had to stay in the hospital for weeks – first to patch up her broken body, and then to fix the chasm that had been ripped inside her. How she'd gone for more therapist sessions than she could count, trying to find something, anything, to be happy about again. How she'd woken up screaming from nightmares of the crash, held tight in Clary and Jocelyn's protective embrace as she sobbed unrestrainedly.

Her hand went automatically to her clockwork angel, closing her fingers around it and forcing down the sobs that threatened to burst out of her.

Tessa looked back up at Will to find that him gazing at her intensely. She had never seen him look at her like that before – a look of sadness and shared grief, a look that told her he knew how she felt without actually saying it out loud. A look that told her she hadn't been alone in experiencing the darker side of life.

A look that made her wonder if perhaps, Will Herondale was not all that he seemed.

* * *

Clary's phone buzzed twenty minutes after Jace and Jonathan had gone down to the basement. She slid the lock screen across to see the Whatsapp message.

_Unknown: Did you have to do this?_

Clary shot a look sideways at Simon, who was staring enraptured at the screen, mouthing along with the lines Han Solo was saying.

_Clary: Excuse me? _

_Unknown: I was thinking that you could be trusted. _

_Clary: Who is this? _

_Unknown: Did you have to ruin what was shiny?_

_Clary: Taylor Swift? Really? _

_Unknown: Now it's all rusted _

_Clary: Oh my God. Are you kidding me, Jace? _

_Unknown: Did you have to hit me where I'm weak? _

_Clary: I'll hit you where the sun don't shine if you don't shut up. How did you even get my number? _

_Jace: Jonathan. _

_Clary: He told you? _

_Jace: He didn't have to. I stole it from his phone. _

_Clary: Stalker much? _

_Jace: Hey, Jon and I are bros. We share everything. _

_Clary: I always knew you and Jon had a thing for each other. You can be Jonathan-squared. I'll start planning the wedding. _

_Jace: Firstly, bros don't date other bros. That's against the bro code. _

Clary snorted.

_Jace: Secondly, that would be awkward, considering I'm dating his sister. _

_Clary: I said I'd go on one date with you. That doesn't make us a couple. _

_Jace: It's just a matter of time. You know you love me. _

_Clary: Why don't we let Hell freeze over first, and then we'll negotiate the terms. _

_Jace: This is a non-negotiable contract, short stuff. _

Oh, he did not!

_Clary: I'm wondering...does Jon know that you asked me on a date? _

Clary could picture Jace sitting on the sofa below, staring at the phone screen in frozen shock. If there was one thing that Jonathan's friends knew, he was fiercely protective of Clary and Tessa. Sure, he could act like a jerk and barely acknowledge them half the time, but he would never allow Jace to date Clary – especially knowing Jace's track record with girls.

If she said the word, Jace would be minced meat in a couple of minutes.

_Jace: Clary, you wouldn't. _

_Clary: Try me. _

_Jace: I don't believe you. _

Clary took a deep breath. "JONATHAN!"

Immediately, the phone buzzed, messages appearing with increasing frequency.

_Jace: nO_

_Jace: CLARY NO _

_Jace: I'll do anything you want_

_Jace: Say the word. _

"What?" she heard her brother bellow, annoyed.

"Nothing!" Clary called back sweetly. "Go on with your zombie killing!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Simon pause the movie and stare at her, but she wanted to finish typing.

_Clary: Stop bothering me. You're making me miss the best parts. _

_Jace: Got it. _

_Jace: I'm going. _

_Jace: Right now _

_Clary: Jace, if you text me one more word, this phone is going straight into Jon's hands. _

_Jace: Okay _

_Jace: Shit. _

Clary smiled to herself, pocketing her phone and leaning back on the sofa. It wouldn't do any harm to let Jace stew for a bit, wondering if she'd tell Jon or not.

Of course, she'd been kidding, but he didn't have to know that.

_Victory is sweet. _

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Tessa was wondering exactly how Will had managed to make it to 18.

After the first question, the atmosphere in the room had relaxed much further, and they'd been able to get through the next three questions without much trouble – although Will's recount of the time he'd nearly died trying to climb down the chimney when he was 7 and choking on all the soot had been mildly alarming and mostly hilarious.

"Why did you even think that was a good idea?" Tessa asked, laughing as she tried to imagine a little Will clambering down the chimney only to get stuck halfway through and be pulled out looking like a coal miner.

"It was all Cecily's fault if you ask me," Will replied and some part of Tessa's mind noticed with amazement that he was grinning good-naturedly. "She knew I never could turn down a dare."

"Of course that would be your favourite childhood memory," Tessa said, amused. "You pulling some wild scheme and having all the attention on you."

"I wouldn't call getting scolded, grounded, and sent to bed without dinner having all the attention on me," he said, looking down at the paper in his hands. "But how is anything fun when you don't take risks?"

"There are plenty of other fun things you could have done," Tessa protested. "Things that you wouldn't have gotten in trouble for."

"Boring things, you mean," Will rolled his eyes. "I prefer things that are more...forbidden."

Suddenly, the relaxed air in the room vanished.

Tessa knew she should change the topic, go on with the assignment, but it felt like someone else had taken over her body and she was a mere puppet. "What kind of forbidden things?" she said softly.

"Things that have consequences," Will replied in a voice that was just as low. "Things that can cause a mess."

"Then why do you do them?"

"Does there always need to be a reason, Tess?" Will asked, the slanting sun glinting off his dark hair, turning his dark blue eyes just a shade lighter. "I just want to."

Somehow Tessa knew he wasn't talking about his childhood experiences anymore. Some vague part of her mind was telling her that what she was doing was not part of the plan, that she should shut up and carry on with the damn project, but what came out of her mouth was entirely different.

"Is there anything you want right now? Anything forbidden?"

Their gazes locked and held, and Tessa felt her heart beating faster. What she was waiting for exactly, she wasn't sure...but she knew it would be important.

_Important to the plan, _she reminded herself. _The plan is what counts._

"Nothing," Will said finally, and Tessa felt the crushing sensation of disappointment, immediately cursing herself for it. "What about you, Tess? Anything forbidden that you want to share?"

"No," Tessa said lightly. "Not a thing."

* * *

_Really, Tessa? Are you sure about that? _

_Weirdly enough, I really enjoyed writing Clary and Simon's conversation – mostly because I'm a hardcore Sizzy shipper. _

_I was originally planning to have Will and Tessa's assignment be one chapter – but this took much too long for that – fourteen pages already! So I've split the rest of their assignment discussion into the next chapter – which I can promise will be updated soon (in about two weeks or so) – and more Clace of course! Wessa did get a bit off track towards the end there...but that happens, doesn't it? _

_So, you finally know what happened to Tessa's family and to Will's mother(although if he was telling the truth, I'll let you decide), as well as the relationship between Clary and Tessa. Jace and Will's relationship will mostly probably be revealed in the next two chapters. _

_Lastly, I watched the Shadowhunters pilot on Wednesday and I loved it! Of course, there were things they changed I didn't like, but overall it was good. What do you guys think? _

_Till next time! _


	9. Chapter 8

_That moment when you say you're going to update in two weeks, and in turns into a month. #Awkward_

_I'm really sorry guys, but I'm sitting for an important exam this year – the GCSE O Levels – and I'm being loaded down with a lot of homework and tests and a nine subject combination to deal with – along with my procrastination – means I really have very little time to work on this story. I however, promise that I will never give up on PTP. _

_Happy reading! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments or Infernal Devices._

* * *

_"__Next thing that I know I'm in a hotel with you. You were talking deep like it was mad love to you. You w And now I don't understand it...you don't mess with love, you mess with the truth. And I know I shouldn't say it...but my heart don't understand why I got you on my mind..." _

\- _On My Mind, Ellie Goulding_

* * *

**Chapter Eight **

Clary wasn't sure at what point she'd fallen asleep, but she woke up feeling the most comfortable she'd had in ages.

She was lying half sideways across the L-shaped sofa, snuggled in among the dozens of pillows she and Simon had accumulated for their marathon.

Simon was just as bad as her: he was lying with his feet thrown over the armrest, his mouth wide open and glasses lopsided. Clary was seized by a sudden temptation to stuff his mouth with popcorn, and fought back the urge – although she couldn't help but grin at the thought of how her best friend would react.

She propped herself up on her elbow, yawning as she pulled her rubber band out and tried to smooth down her unruly red curls. She lay where she was for a few minutes, allowing the last vestiges of sleep to slip away.

_Darned math exam. _

All junior year students were required to take a math final in mid-October in order to determine their placing for the next two years. Clary remembered how much Jonathan had struggled to prepare for it, especially since Jocelyn and Valentine had forced him to sacrifice his video games to focus on his studies. It hadn't just been him – Jem, Alec and the Herondales had all suffered for the months beforehand.

At the time, Clary had acted like the loving sister she was and rubbed it in his face, but she regretted it now, knowing that Jonathan would surely return the favour.

Only now that she'd spent many sleepless nights – and most of her days – studying frantically for it, had she realized just how much of a hell it was. Heck, the fact that she'd fallen asleep watching one of her favourite movies of all time was testimony to the fact that she was drop-dead tired.

Shaking away all thoughts of derivatives, coordinates and theorems, she left Simon asleep on the couch – after taking a picture that she planned to Snapchat to Isabelle (because she was a wonderfully supportive best friend) – and made her way to the upstairs bathroom to clean up.

* * *

Being around Will Herondale, Tessa decided, was wrecking havoc on her poor brain.

She hardly ever did things on the spur of the moment, always preferring to consider her options carefully before deciding on a course of action. She was the one with all the answers, the one who held Clary back when she'd decided to come up with some crazy plan or other, the one who loved order and reason.

But ever since Will had stepped into the picture, he was carving his own way through her mind, ripping apart every last shred of logic she had when dealing with him.

_He should come with a health warning: Highly dangerous. Avoid if you want to keep any shred of your sanity. _

Because if it wasn't Will, what the _hell _had she been thinking having that conversation with him?

That highly _flirtatious _conversation?

She didn't do flirting. Especially not with a Herondale of all people.

_Yep, it's all Will's fault. _

"I have arrived," the devil himself announced, letting the door swing shut with a bang behind him. "And I come bearing gifts."

He set down a plate of pizza rolls, another of chocolate chip cookies and an assortment of potato chips, candy, and chocolate bars. He'd gone downstairs after they'd completed two more – thankfully harmless – questions, claiming that he'd die of hunger if he didn't receive any sustenance and what _would_ the world do if it faced such a loss?

Tessa was sure that the world would throw a party in relief, but since she didn't especially feel like dealing with a sulky eighteen year old for the next three hours, she wisely kept her mouth shut.

"Did you make this yourself?" she asked sceptically, picking up a cookie and scrutinizing it. "Because if I end in the hospital with food poisoning tomorrow, you better get yourself a bodyguard."

"First of all, I'm great at cooking," Will defended himself. "I can make amazing mac and cheese – "

"And that wouldn't be the boxed instant one, would it?" Tessa raised an eyebrow.

"And secondly," Will continued as though he hadn't heard a word, "they're not actually mine, Cecily made them and I may or may not have stolen them from the kitchen where she left them to cool so I wouldn't tell her about it if I were you."

"Hey, if it ends in your funeral, I have no objections."

Will narrowed his eyes. "I'm going to let that slide for now, but I won't be so merciful a second time, Tess."

Rolling her eyes, Tessa dropped the cookie back onto the plate and picked up the question paper. "Next question. Who's your favourite person and why?"

"Easy – "

"NO, Will. You can't say yourself."

"Damn it woman, you read my mind."

She scrawled the question number on a fresh page in her notebook and waited for Will's answer. He was silent for a few minutes, and when she looked up, he looked like he was deliberating. She got the feeling he was wondering whether to tell her the truth or not.

"Cecily."

"Why Cecily?"

A half smile played on his lips. "Cecily and I were always very close to each other when we were younger. She was just a year and a half younger than me, and Ella was more like an aunt than an older sister. Cecy and I used to get into all sorts of trouble together, half driving our mother mad. I think we must have given her a dozen heart attacks."

Tessa smiled, not finding that very hard to imagine. Will's mother must've been a very capable woman to deal with both Cecily and him.

"She used to be the only person who could bring a smile on my face even in the worst times," Will continued, his voice slightly softer. "We fought like all other siblings, but she'd come find me – no matter where I was – and without saying a word, I knew I'd been forgiven, or that she was telling me she was sorry."

The way Will talked about Cecily reminded Tessa painfully of her own relationship with Nate. As Will spoke, dozens of memories flashed through Tessa's mind – dancing wildly with Nate in the living room, racing one another home after school, the time when she broke her ankle and he had carried her home, the many, many picnics they'd gone on together.

The reminder that Nate would never do those things with her again still felt like a red-hot iron rod had just been driven into her chest.

"Tess?"

Tessa snapped back to the situation at hand, giving Will an apologetic look. "Sorry, I was just thinking of something else," she explained. "That's really sweet. I never knew you loved her so much."

"That was in the past," he shrugged. "But she's still my little sister. Of course I'd look out for her."

Tessa was taken aback. She didn't know why but somehow she'd never really thought about the fact that Will might have real, concrete feelings towards someone other than himself. Now that she did think, she realized that of course it was ridiculous – no one could ever live without loving another. If you cared for no one at all – or if no one cared for you – did you even really exist?

* * *

When Jace was 12, he'd practically spent his life at the Morgensterns'.

He'd hated everyone when he first arrived in New York, Ella and Cecily and Will and his grandmother – everyone who was a painful reminder of what he'd lost, of what his mother had lost.

It didn't help that Ella treated him like he was made of glass, that Cecily kept shooting him wary and suspicious looks, that Grandmother Imogen was being her usual standoffish self.

But it was Will who had truly made the Herondale house untolerable.

He didn't blame Will now for what had transpired between the two of them all those years ago. Will and he might not have the same mother, but they were, unquestionably, brothers – they had the same acerbic wit, the same sarcastic facade, the same way of lashing out to avoid dealing with what they were really feeling.

Will and he had both lashed out at another, angry and hurting, and home had become a minefield, liable to explode with the smallest word or the most insignificant action.

He had pushed away everyone who'd tried to befriend him. Will, Jem, Jonathan and Alec had been friends before he'd even arrived on the scene. And yet, all of them – except Will - had been nothing short of saints in their behaviour towards him.

Jem had tried in his patient, gentle way, to get Will to see reason. Alec had been there with his friendly smile and helpful manner, taking whatever Jace threw his way without flinching. Till today, Jace didn't know where Alec had found the strength to deal with him without committing violent murder.

And Jonathan...

Jonathan was the relaxed one of the group, the most laid-back. The one everyone thought of as oblivious and unperceptive. And yet, without fail, Jonathan had invited Jace home every day on the behalf of some pretext or another – a last-minute homework assignment, a calculus test he needed help studying for, a new video game he'd just bought – and, saved Jace from the hell that his new home had been.

It was only much later that Jace realized he had done it on purpose. Had invited him home to get him away from the volatility he was constantly exposed to at his own house.

The Morgenstern house had become heaven.

Jocelyn and Valentine had been kind to him, and eventually just gotten used to him as another member of the household. Of course, there was always Clary to deal with – who was simply _thrilled_ at having him there – but in a way, he'd even enjoyed her witty banter, and how she matched him tit for tat.

Eventually, it had become his second home. He and Jonathan had had so many spur of the moment sleepovers that eventually he just kept a spare change of clothes, and a toothbrush in Jonathan's room. The Morgensterns trusted him implicitly, and treated him like family.

And how was he repaying them?

_By planning to break Clary's heart. _

Jace turned off the shower and leant his head against the shower wall, trying very hard not to think about how small and fragile Clary had looked sleeping on the sofa downstairs, and about what he was planning to do to her.

_To love is to destroy, and to be loved is to be the one destroyed. _

Maybe one of the only few useful things his father had ever taught him.

He'd seen first-hand just how destructive love could be. His mother had loved his father with everything she'd had, given up everything she loved just to be with him, and where had it gotten her?

In a cold box six feet underground.

He wouldn't let it happen again. He knew now that it was always better to be the heartbreaker than the one who got his heart broken.

Suddenly, he heard the door to the bathroom bang open, and groaned inwardly, realizing that he'd forgotten to lock the door again.

He wasn't too concerned, since Jonathan did have a bad habit of barging in without knocking to grab something or the other, and besides, the shower curtain was still pulled across, shielding him from view.

Then he heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down, and straightened up. There was no way Jonathan would just strip in the bathroom with him there. They may have been close, but they weren't _that _close.

And then came a sound of a very feminine sigh.

_No. Goddamn. Way. _

Jace was usually a smooth talker, the one who had words for every situation, but his ability failed him now. He couldn't think of a single thing to say. He couldn't even call out to Clary to let her know he was in the shower or she would undoubtedly freak out on him. Then they would inevitably get into a shouting match, which would attract Jonathan's attention and the night would probably end with Jonathan's fist in his face and a broken nose.

_Okay, hold very still and maybe she won't realize you're in here. _

Jace edged to the very end of the shower, and slowly pulled the towel off the rack, wrapping it around his waist. If Clary did end up discovering that they were in the bathroom at the same time, at least he would only be half-naked.

He heard something drop to the ground and prayed to whatever God that wasn't having a good laugh at his expense that she wasn't planning to take a shower too.

For a moment, absolutely nothing happened.

And then the shower curtain was yanked back.

* * *

"If you could be any animal, what would you be and why?"

"Easy. A peacock."

"A _peacock?" _

"Yeah, I mean have you seen them? They just strut around looking pretty and get to have loads of sex."

Tessa banged her head against the floor. "Will, you can't be serious."

"Hate to disappoint you, Tess, but I am."

"Mr Wayland wants to see these answers, Herondale! I can't write 'because they're amazing to look at and have lots of sex!"

"Sure you can. You want me to write it for you?"

Tessa chucked a pillow at the infuriating boy's head and growled in frustration as he ducked. "Fine," she smiled sweetly. "I'm writing a cockroach."

"How can a cockroach possibly compare to the wonder that I am?"

"Because it's disgusting, insufferable, and everyone wants to kill it."

"There was so much in that sentence that was wrong, I'm just going to ignore that you said that."

"Then give me a proper answer!"

"_Fine._ A lion."

"Because they make everyone else do the work and sleep all day?"

"Because they're proud and fearless," Will huffed. "Your turn."

Tessa tapped her pencil thoughtfully against her chin. "An eagle, probably. I mean, they get to fly. How cool is that?"

"They also look like they've been electrocuted if you look at them straight on," Will pointed out. "Unless you want to go around like bird Einstein."

"Appearances aren't all that matter," Tessa shot back. "It's not as if birds care how they look. Unlike some people I could name."

She barrelled on before Will could open his mouth to protest. "If you could marry a fictional character, who would it be?"

"Does it have to be – "

"Yes, Will. Marry, not sleep with."

"Probably...Sleeping Beauty."

"You do know that she's comatose the whole time?"

Will snapped his fingers at her. "Exactly. So I can basically do what I want, and she won't have a clue."

"You are a terrible person."

"Agree to disagree, Tess. Your turn to answer. Let me guess, Sydney Carton?"

"Just because he's my favourite character doesn't mean I want to marry him, so no. And for the ten millionth time, stop calling me Tess!"

"Mr Rochester? Heathcliff?"

"No!" Tessa said, exasperated. "I was actually going to say Sherlock Holmes, because he'd always have some interesting case to discuss. Life would never be boring."

Will gave her a searching look.

"What?" Tessa asked self-consciously.

"It's just that every time I feel like I have you figured out, you come up with something unexpected. You're full of surprises, Tess."

Tessa shrugged. "I could say the same about you. You never fail to come up with new ways to annoy me."

"It's my specialty."

Rolling her eyes, she scanned through the next questions, relieved that there were only three to go. "The next part is the one you answer about your partner," she told Will. "Do you want to ask first?"

Will looked down at his own question paper. "Name three things you like about your partner," he read aloud. "I know it'll be hard to keep it to just three, but do try your best, Tess."

"I'm just spoilt for choice," she replied sarcastically, trying her best to think of something to say. "Well, first, I like how I can rile you up so easily by bruising your ego. It never gets old."

"I'm touched."

"Second, I love how I can easily blame you for everything that goes wrong when you're around so I can have a scapegoat."

"Well, I'm glad to be of service."

Despite herself, Tessa felt a slight twinge of regret for being so harsh. After all, he did have to turn these answers in to their teacher. Maybe brutal honesty wasn't the best way to go.

"And lastly..." she hesitated. "I like how protective you are of Cecily. It's nice to know that you care about her, even when you act like you couldn't give a damn."

Will's head was bent towards his notebook, writing down her answers. When he looked at her again, there was nothing on his face to indicate what he'd felt about what she said. "My turn, then. First, I like how short you are, because I can tower over you."

"Hey!" Tessa shot upright, indignant. "I am not _short_! In fact, I'm taller than the norm! It's not my fault you're a giant."

"You're an entire head shorter than me," the smarmy little wanker smirked. "But don't worry, Tess. It's adorable."

"Secondly," he continued, before Tessa could grab a book to fling at his head, "I like how you always get fired up when someone says something you don't like. It's good entertainment."

_Forget books, I'm finding a nuclear bomb. God knows his big balloon of a head could do with some deflating. _

"And lastly, I think it's really cool how passionate you get when you're talking about something you believe in. Your speeches in Mr Wayland's class? They're really interesting."

Tessa was pretty sure all the neurones in her brain had just short-circuited. Will had just gave her a real, honest compliment – and it wasn't even about how she looked.

_Yep, _she thought faintly. _Being around Will _definitely_ isn't good for my mental health. _

* * *

_"__Fuck!" _

"What the hell, Jace?"

"Shouldn't I be the one asking that question?" Jace grunted, bent double over the side of the bathtub. "That hurt like a bitch, Morgenstern!"

"Well next time, don't goddamn frighten a person by unexpectedly jumping out at them from their bathtub!"

"What was I supposed to do? You would've freaked out on me!"

"You're damn right I would have!" Clary raged. "Who hides in someone's bathroom?"

"I was taking a shower! Why didn't _you _knock?"

"Why didn't _you _bloody say something?"

"What was I supposed to say?" Jace fired back. "I couldn't have done anything without startling you, and then you would've screamed and Jonathan would've been up here in two seconds!"

"Why do you care about _Jonathan_?"

"Because he's your brother!"

"What does that have to do with – " Clary paused, realization dawning on her. "This is about earlier, isn't it? The text messages? You thought I was going to tell Jonathan?"

Jace developed a sudden interest in the shower curtain.

"Oh my God! It is!" Clary collapsed against the side of the bathroom, bursting out laughing at the thought of Jace being frightened of her brother.

"Laugh all you want, Short Stuff," Jace muttered darkly. "You've never been on the receiving end of your brother's right hook."

"I – can't – believe – " Clary choked, "that you're afraid of my brother. Jonathan can't even go to the bathroom at night without switching on about two hundred lights on the way."

"Yeah, you have to get him to stop that," Jace complained. "It's interfering with my sleep."

"Forgive me if my priorities don't include making sure you get your beauty rest," Clary retorted.

"Like I need beauty sleep," Jace scoffed. "Perfection doesn't need effort."

Clary became suddenly aware that she was standing in nothing less than a white tank top and sleep shorts in front of – for the second time in two days – a half-naked Jace Herondale.

"Can you get out?" she folded her arms. "I need to shower and I can't do that with you here."

An unexpectedly wicked grin broke out over Jace's face. "Why? Is something distracting you?"

_Absolutely nothing, except for the fact that your torso looks like a piece of art and I'd happily stare at it for hours if you let me. _

"Yes, your big fat head is," Clary said irritably, trying to stare anywhere besides the very delectable specimen of the male abdomen directly in front of her eyes.

By the look on Jace's face, it was pretty clear he didn't believe her. "You know, it really wasn't nice of you to lie earlier. Haven't you heard that honesty is the best policy?"

"That's rich, coming from you."

Without knowing, both Clary and Jace moved closer to each other, an unspoken challenge in both of their faces. "I don't lie, Clary," Jace was so close that Clary had to tilt her head up farther to meet his defiant golden gaze. "And I wouldn't lie to you. Don't you think that should be a two-way road?"

Before Clary could reply, the bathroom door burst open and a familiar voice interrupted.

"What the _hell_?"

* * *

_Well, well, well. Who do you think interrupted Clace? (Oh and as for the whole peacock and sex thing, don't even ask. Writing in a sleep-deprived state does not equal good results. Don't follow my example.)_

_The bathroom scene in this was inspired by the Hanna and Caleb scene from Season 1 of Pretty Little Liars. Am I the only one who absolutely burst out laughing at that? (I'm absolutely in love with PLL.) If there are any PLL fans reading this, please review and let me know! I'm only in S3 though, so no spoilers please. _

_Moving on, I'm so sorry this chapter took this long, but as much as I wish my life could revolve around fanfiction, reality has a bad habit of getting in the way. I will try my best to update as soon as possible. __I loved the latest Shadowhunters episode – Max was adorable, and ALL THE MALEC OHMYGAWD – so tell me your thoughts on that! I'd love to hear them._

_Lastly – just out of curiosity – how do you guys picture me to look like? Because I know that when I read a fanfic, I always have this mental picture in my head of the author. This is purely because I'm curious though, you don't have to answer it :)_

_As always, review and tell me what you think! _

_Till next time! _


	10. Chapter 9

_Did this lazy bitch really get off her bed and finally update? _

_Yes. Yes, she did. _

_I am so sorry this chapter took this long - I can't believe how lovely and supportive you guys have been all along. Your reviews and encouragment never fail to make me smile. I would give you all a big hug if I could. _

_Also, can I just say how much I loved the latest Shadowhunters episode? I wanted to live in the alternate dimension forever. NERD IZZY IS MY NEW LOVE. I will never stop laughing about her weird dance moves in the Institute. _

_THE SIZZY AND MALEC FEELS THO. I'm so proud of my baby Alec! *sobs* Striding down the aisle and just kissing Magnus in front of everyone...damn. _

_Okay, time for me to stop rambling and let y'all lovelies get to the story. Happy reading! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments or Infernal Devices._

* * *

_"__I'm holdin' on. Myself was never enough for me, gotta be so strong. There's a power in what you do, now, every other day I'll be watching you. Show you what it feels like, now I'm on the outside...we did everything right, now I'm on the outside..." _

\- _Outside, Calvin Harris_

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

Two hours later, Will was wondering if Mr Wayland had some sort of secret grudge against his students, or if he had always been this sadistic.

He had thought that there was only one page of questions Mr Wayland had given them, anticipating that they would finish soon and he could be done with it.

But _no_.

Because Mr Wayland was apparently evil, and insisted on having his students answer as many boring and pointless questions possible (okay, so they weren't that boring but they were painful to answer).

Tessa was lying flat out on the carpet by this time, her head propped up on her hand as she scribbled. Her hair had come loose from her ponytail, long strands framing her face as she wrote. As she bent lower, something suddenly slipped free from her sweater and swung forward, dangling just below her chin.

Curious, Will leaned forward slightly to see what it was – was that a _sword?_ – but at that moment Tessa bent her head down so that his line of sight was obscured.

Will knew he probably seemed like he was some sort of creeper observing her like he was, but – unusually for him – he wasn't checking her out, or wondering what she would be like in bed.

Ever since he had first met her three years ago, Tessa had intrigued him. Contrary to what everyone thought, she wasn't the first girl to turn him down, but for whatever reason he couldn't fathom, she was the first one whose rejection _bothered _him.

He hadn't even told Jace just how much Tessa's rejection had gotten under his skin, because – again, a first – he hadn't been able to understand why himself. Will never let himself dwell long and hard over anything. He had always been able to move past whatever faced him, but this infuriating girl had been the one person able to needle him like no one else had before.

The more she rejected him, the more determined he became to finally win her over – even if it was just to finally get rid of that irritating feeling she caused him, to put an end to it once and for all and forget about Tessa Gray completely.

But, because fate or karma or whichever twisted bitch ran the universe seemed to really have it out for him, she was the most stubborn person he had ever met in his entire 18 years on the planet.

But now everything had changed. Now it was all about the pact.

Will hated failing. And he didn't plan to fail this time. Not when he might have finally made some progress in seeing what lay behind the calm, quietly confident wall that Tessa had erected around herself.

This project – however bothersome it was – had given him a much needed opportunity to start breaking down Tessa's defences.

No matter how well a person constructed their walls, no matter how much effort they put in to keep everyone at arm's length, no matter how strong their armour, Will knew that there was _always _a weak spot.

And, just for a moment, he thought he might have witnessed Tessa's.

She'd kept her voice perfectly even, her eyes had been dry and free from tears, but in that instant he had briefly seen a flash of who Tessa really was.

Someone who still hurt for the family she had lost.

He hadn't known much about her before her arrival in New York. He'd known she was Clary's cousin, but although he'd wondered, he'd never thought to ask why she had come to live with Clary and her family.

_"__Wouldn't you do the same, if it was someone you really loved? Wouldn't you give yourself up to save them?" _

He hadn't been able to forget those words, nor the look in her sea grey eyes as she'd turned to face him afterwards.

Now he knew why.

And to his surprise, he hadn't thought of using her weakness against her, hadn't thought of the plan at all. Instead his thoughts had been filled with what he had lost so many years ago in Wales, what had been ripped away from him in an instant, and for that instant, he'd felt her pain and grief as if it was his own.

For in their own ways, they had both lost what had meant most to them.

* * *

"Simon, I'm telling you _nothing happened_."

"Mmhmm."

"Simon, I'm serious."

"Mmhmm."

"It was a total accident."

"_Mm_hmm."

"Stop that or I will call Isabelle and tell her you're in love with her," Clary threatened.

"Hey!" Simon shouted indignantly. "I am not in love with Isabelle."

"Simon's in love with Isabelle?" Jonathan asked incredulously, picking that very moment to walk in.

"I am not – "

"Nerd boy loves Izzy?" Jace's eyes sparked with amusement as he sat down beside Jonathan, his eyes trained on Clary and Simon. "Man, that should be good."

"I am _not _in love with Izzy," Simon protested. "Clary, you're the worst best friend ever."

"What did I do?" Clary defended herself. "You're the one who shouted it for the whole world to hear."

"I like Isabelle," Simon said firmly. "As a friend. Nothing more."

"Denial, thy name is Simon." Clary shook her head in disappointment, although the farce was more for Jace and Jonathan, who were looking at them in amusement.

"And the pot calls the kettle black," Simon whistled loudly as he leant back, fixing Clary with a stare. "Or do you want to keep denying what was happening up-_ow!_"

Clary stomped hard on his foot, smiling angelically at him. _One word, Lewis. One word and you're dead. _

To her despair, Jonathan picked that very moment to start being observant. "What happened where?"

When the door had first slammed open, Clary had feared that it would be Jonathan standing in the door, and she would end up having to break up a fight between him and Jace. Regardless of the nonchalant attitude Jon nearly always displayed, Clary knew no boy would be allowed to date her till he was dead and buried – and if he found Jace and Clary so close together, wearing barely any clothes, it would've been nigh on impossible to get him to sit down and listen to reason.

But thankfully, the gods had smiled on her for once. It was Simon who stood staring at them in equal parts shock and disgust, who could at least be persuaded to listen first and act later.

Only, the listening part hadn't gone down so well.

Her best friend was now firmly convinced that her and Jace had been having a 'thing' for quite some time, and no matter how much she had tried to persuade him that they had _not _been flirting (the horror), that the story she was going on a date with him because she lost a bet was _not_ fabricated, and she still hated Jace just as much as she always had, Simon had been sure that he was right.

At a look from Clary, Simon coughed fiercely. "What?"

_Real subtle there, buddy. _

Only, for whatever reason, Jonathan wasn't to be deterred. "What happened where?" he asked again, leaning forward to pick up the TV remote.

"Oh," Simon laughed nervously. "I was just talking about, you know, up there."

Jonathan looked at Simon as if he'd escaped from an asylum. "Up where?"

"You know," Simon waved his hands around like a windmill. "_There. _The cosmos. The universe. Whatever you want to call it."

"The cosmos," Jon repeated, as if Simon had lost his marbles.

"Yep," Simon started rambling. "Clary and I were just talking. About the universe. And how...uh, great, it is. She doesn't think it's very great, but I do. "

"How very New Age of you, Lewis," Jace commented. "Do you align your chakras every morning?"

Simon looked as if he would dearly love to align his chakras in Jace's neck instead, but instead let out a (fake) laugh and gave Clary a meaningful look. "I have to go."

"Have a hot date with Isabelle, do you?" Jonathan remarked lazily, switching on the TV.

"Very funny," Simon said flatly. "_Goodbye, _Clary."

With another pointed look at the redhead, Simon left the room, and all three heard the front door of the house close seconds later.

"Did you have to do that?" Clary moaned in frustration, glaring at her brother and Jace. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to get anything out of him other than 'Isabelle and I are just friends'?"

"Geek boy and Isabelle," Jon repeated in disbelief. "You don't see anything wrong in that picture?"

"As a matter of fact, I don't," Clary said fiercely. "And don't you dare say anything to either of them, or I will personally castrate you, Jon. I don't need you to make my job harder."

"Since when did you appoint yourself their matchmaker?" Jace interjected.

"It comes with the duty of best friend," Clary shot back. "Not that I would expect you to know anything about duty."

"I did a great job with Alec," Jace fired back.

"Oh really?" Clary raised her eyebrows. "Do you mean the countless times you set him up with various girls from the cheerleading squad?"

"Hey, it was on one of those dates that he met Magnus," Jace defended. "So in a way, if it hadn't been for me, Alec would still be very much single _and_ in the closet."

The story of how Alec and his boyfriend, Magnus, met was famous in school. Alec had been at Taki's, a cafe near Shadowhunter High, frantically trying to escape from one of the dates that Jace had coerced him to go on, when he'd encountered Magnus. After a series of events that involved three spilled drinks, a pissed off date, and a good deal of damage to the cafe's cutlery and furniture, Magnus had ended up asking Alec – dripping wet, and covered in spaghetti sauce – out, and they'd been together ever since.

"That was all coincidence," Clary dismissed with a wave of her hand. "You can't take credit for that."

"If you're going to argue, will you at least do it in the kitchen?" Jonathan complained. "I can't hear a damn thing with you two yelling at each other."

Jonathan had long ago accepted the fact that Clary and Jace would never get along, and often stayed out of their fights completely. He supported neither his friend nor his sister, insisting that he was Switzerland, and refused to take sides.

Their father had been strangely proud of Jonathan for that, insisting that 'his fine Swiss blood' had finally begun to manifest itself in his son just as he had always known he would.

Jonathan had always been neutral, but would he be able to do so if Clary and Tessa succeeded in their plan?

For the first time, Clary realized the consequences their plan would have on Jonathan. If they successfully managed to play the Herondales, where would that leave Jonathan?

How would he choose between his best friends, and his family?

For the first time, Clary wondered if maybe she and Tessa were doing the right thing after all. Was making the Herondales change their ways worth all the pain and heartbreak that would surely occur as a consequence of their plan?

For an instant, Clary hesitated – and then she remembered the image of Rosalie Fernandez sobbing by herself in a toilet cubicle, collapsing into Clary's arms when she asked her what was wrong, and telling her that Jace had left her after they'd slept together the night before.

The asshole hadn't even had the balls to break up with her to her face – all Rosalie got was a brief text message, with not even an apology for how cruelly Jace had treated her.

_No. _Clary's heart hardened. _Jace deserves all the pain he's going to get. _

It would be worth it.

It _had_ to be worth it.

* * *

"Yes!"

Tessa thought she might burst into happy tears as she scribbled her last sentence, adding a full stop with a flourish and holding her pen up in the air triumphantly. "I'm done!"

She flicked through the pages of her notebook, making sure she'd copied down the answer to each and every question. There were thirty in all, questions about fears and dreams and favourite memories – but she and Will had ended up digressing so much that they'd taken nearly three hours to finish all the questions.

At one point, they'd even had a debate on whether Dumbledore or Gandalf would be more likely to win in a fight. Tessa wasn't quite sure how they'd gotten so far off point, but she strongly suspected it was all Will's fault.

"Congratulations," The boy in question was flat on his back where he'd been sprawled for the past half an hour, giving her an upside-down grin. "You've successfully wasted two hours, forty nine minutes, and..." he checked his watch, "thirty five seconds of your life. Here's your consolation prize." He held out the last chocolate chip cookie.

Tessa was surprised there was even one left – Will had been devouring so many of them she was pretty sure all his cellular processes depended on it by this point.

"No thanks," Tessa wrinkled her nose. "I hate chocolate."

Will sat up so fast she thought he'd been yanked upright like a puppet on a string. "Tell me I did not just hear what I thought I heard."

"What? I hate chocolate?"

"Tessa," he gasped dramatically. "I think I'm going mad. I've just heard it again."

Tessa rolled her eyes. "I always knew you were clonked on the head as a baby. Do quit the histrionics, Will."

Will was starting to remind her of a cartoon character in one of the comic books Clary loved reading, the unrealistic ones where it looked like the eyes were going to pop out of your head and the mouth was wide enough that the entire population of blue whales in the ocean could probably make it their permanent home.

Will was still staring at her as if she'd just said she drowned puppies for a living. "How could you hate _chocolate_?"

Tessa shrugged. "It tastes weird."

"Chocolate is practically the best invention man has ever come up with!"

Tessa rolled her eyes. "And I suppose we are discounting airplanes, computers, vaccines – "

Will leaned over and grabbed her shoulders. "Tess," he said seriously, "not liking chocolate is the biggest crime any human being can ever commit. It's practically sacrilege! It's treason!"

Tessa burst out laughing. "What, am I going to get locked up now?"

"I'm afraid so, my dear Tessa," Will said with utmost seriousness. "You are officially on the run."

"How terrible," Tessa deadpanned.

"Indeed," Will nodded. "But you needn't worry. I'm here to save you."

"I think I'd prefer jail, thanks."

"Really?" Will leaned even closer. "I'm pretty sure jail walls aren't as appealing to look at as I am."

Tessa snorted. "I doubt that."

"Sweetheart, you love me really," Will drawled. "Deep, deep down."

"If I ever come to that realization, _sweetheart,_" the brunette said acerbically, "I'll be sure to let you know at once."

"I'll be waiting."

"Are you sure you have the patience?" Tessa couldn't help but tease. "You might have to wait for the rest of eternity."

"For you, Tessa Gray?" Will glanced up at her, his eyes the colour of the midnight sky. "I'll wait as long as it takes."

For a minute, Tessa was speechless. There was something about the way the words had rolled off his tongue, something seductive and appealing and holding promise of forbidden things. There was something about what he had said, the way he was looking at her, that made her want to give in. That made her want to find out what exactly would happen if he didn't have to wait anymore.

_What are you _doing, _Tessa? _It was the voice in her head, the voice that always reminded her of Clary, that finally snapped her back to the real world. _This is how he draws them know what he does to the girls who fall for him. You know he means nothing of what he is telling you. It's all just a big, fat lie. _

Abruptly, she leaned away and grabbed her books roughly, letting her hair fall into her face to hide the faint red flush on her cheeks. "It's late," she said curtly, shoving her stationery into her bag. "I should go."

"Tess?" Will's voice was puzzled, and she turned to see him standing up, looking at her with a confused expression. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she said in what she hoped was a casual tone. "I just remembered that I...told Clary I would help her with her math today. I've been here for far too long anyway."

Will's look told her he wasn't buying it, but thankfully he nodded and let it go. "Do we need to meet up again?"

Tessa flicked through the pages of her notebook to make sure she'd written down the answers to all the questions, and then looked up. "Probably. I think it'll help if we bounced story ideas around. And we might need extra information when we – "

"_WILL! You are so dead!" _

Tessa startled in astonishment, turning to the door as she heard footsteps stomping up the stairs. "Will, what did you do?" she accused.

Will, meanwhile, was paling rapidly. "Oh shit," he cursed, shoving the last chocolate chip cookie in his mouth, and snatching up the the plate, shoving it into a drawer in the nightstand. He swallowed, and then turned back to Tessa, eyes wide in fear. "I didn't think she would find out so soon."

The door slammed open before Tessa could ask him what the hell was going on, revealing a very angry Cecily Herondale.

The anger on his face faded to puzzlement as her eyes landed on Tessa. "Tessa?" The dark-haired girl questioned. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey Cecily," Tessa greeted. "Will and I had an English Lit project to work on. What's wrong?"

At this, Cecily's gaze returned to Will, her violet-blue eyes – just like Will's – blazing with anger. "William," she smiled angelically, "do you know what happened today?"

Will wisely kept his mouth shut, but Cecily wasn't fazed by his silence.

"I came home – after a long trip with Grandmother to buy her groceries, and you know how anal she gets about getting the perfect, most ripe fruits – looking forward to eating all my lovely chocolate chip cookies – which, by the way, I made all by myself without _anyone_'_s _help – and what do I find?"

"I have no idea."

"Not only are my cookies gone," Cecily said, her smile disappearing in an instant, "but this thief doesn't even have the generosity to share _one _with his poor sister, who worked so hard to make them."

"Cecily – "

"Tessa, what do you think?" Cecily interrupted. "What would you do if someone stole the cookies you spent so much time and effort on?"

"I would strangle them," Tessa replied seriously. "Indeed, I must commend you on the remarkable patience and restraint you are now displaying."

Will fixed Tessa with a betrayed look.

"Thank you, Tessa," Cecily nodded gravely. "So how would you prefer to die, Will? Strangulation, or buried alive?"

Will held up his hands in defence. "Look, Cecy, I'm sorry – "

"Save it."

"I'm a total and complete idiot – "

"Not good enough."

"I will never be able to repay you for the horrible crime I have committed in stealing your cookies, and I will do all your chores for the next two weeks."

Cecily raised an eyebrow.

"Three weeks," Will amended.

"And...?"

"And I will get you a fresh batch of cookies tomorrow."

Cecily nodded, and left the room just as suddenly as she had come in, with a quick goodbye to Tessa.

"Don't mess with Cecy," Will grimaced, catching Tessa's open-mouthed and curious stare. "She can come up with the most ingenious revenge ideas. I still can't go to bed till today without first checking the bottom to make sure she hasn't left another pile of mud and earthworms in there."

Tessa couldn't help but laugh at that, the picture of what Will's face must've looked like so hilarious that she was still in giggles as they walked down the stairs.

"Glad you find my misery so amusing," Will remarked, although she could see a smile tugging at his lips.

They had reached the front door by now, and Tessa turned to say goodbye to Will, suddenly feeling awkward. What was she supposed to do now?

But before she could open her mouth, Will cut in. "Why do you wear that, Tess?"

Following his gaze, she saw that it was trained on her clockwork angel. She usually kept it tucked beneath her shirt, but it must've swung free when she was sprawled on the carpet upstairs. She closed her fingers around the angel, feeling strangely protective of it, and hesitated, wondering how much she should reveal to Will. "It was my mother's," she said finally. "She used to wear it all the time."

She found that she couldn't say anymore, couldn't find the words to describe just how much the angel meant to her, how wearing it made her feel stronger, as if her mother was right beside her to stroke her hair and tell her everything would be alright just as she used to do.

But as she looked up into Will's eyes, she found that she didn't have to explain – there was understanding there, a look that told her he knew what she wanted to say without her having to say it at all.

A look so disconcertingly intense and unlike Will that it unnerved her.

Tessa opened the door, her gaze still locked with Will's even as she stepped outside. "Good night, Will," she murmured, feeling strangely out of her depth.

"Good night, Tessa."

She turned to leave, and was halfway down the path when he spoke again.

"Oh and Tess?"

She turned back to find him leaning against the door. "What is it?"

"The necklace looks good on you."

Tessa couldn't think of anything to say in response to that, but she didn't need to – Will gave her his signature half-smile, and closed the door before she could reply.

She buried her hands in her jacket as she walked, enjoying the crisp coldness of the air, and allowed herself to pretend - just for that moment - that the flush on her cheeks was just because of the cold.

* * *

_God, FINALLY! _

_You have no idea how bloody long it took me to do this chapter. I kid you not, I had such bad writer's block I spent days trying to get the words and characters right, having to switch so many different perspectives and writing over and over again in order to get this chapter just perfect._

_I apologize for how long it took, but I would rather take my time and give you guys a good quality chapter, rather than rush through it and produce shoddily written work. _

_So, how cute are Wessa? *screams in fangirl delight* I know some of you will be upset there was so much Wessa in this chapter and not enough Clace, but I can promise you the next couple of chapters will be absolutely bursting with Clace *wink wink*_

_Also, what did you guys think of Lady Midnight? I binge read the whole book in one day, and I died. I'm not joking. I had to physically dig myself out of my grave to get this chapter out. Emma and Julian KILLED ME. _

_Anyways, do tell me what you thought of this chapter – constructive criticism is welcomed and always wanted. Hopefully my next update won't take this long..._

_Till next time! _


	11. Chapter 10

_Hey guys! I can't tell you how lovely it is to be writing again! _

_I've been completely wrapped up in Pretty Little Liars lately – WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT SEASON SIX FINALE?! I was so pissed off at season 6B – how could they break up Haleb and Ezria?! I mean, Spencer and Caleb? Seriously?! _

_Sorry for that mini PLL rant. If anyone wants to vent about PLL, PM me anytime. I'm full of feels. _

_I've been spending a lot of time lately wrapping up this story in my head – so many new ideas and scenarios just keep popping into my head that the story has changed so much from how I first envisioned it. I can promise you that there's a lot of funny moments, reveals, drama, and of course, romance, coming up ahead ;) _

_Happy reading! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or Infernal Devices._

* * *

_"__And just like that, all I breathe, all I feel, you are all for me, I'm in. And just like that, all I breathe, all I feel, you are all for me. No one can lift me, catch me, the way that you do. I'm still falling for you..." _

\- _Still Falling For You, Ellie Goulding_

* * *

**Chapter Ten **

Jace hated art.

He hated this stupid class, he hated Mrs Fairchild, he hated the blank canvas that seemed to be mocking him, but most of all he hated Clary Morgenstern and her damned perfect art skills.

"Oh dear, is _Jace Herondale _having trouble at something?"

He also hated her damned perfect full mouth and the fact that she could never keep it shut.

Eyeing the palette of paint beside him, he contemplated for a second what Clary would do if he dumped it on that fire-engine red hair of hers but then decided that he would rather keep his balls.

He was rather attached to them.

Jace sighed and stared moodily at the pristine canvas in front of him. They were working on the same assignment that Mrs Fairchild had given them last lesson, and in one week and three days all he'd managed to achieve was a tiny stickman.

And not even a good stickman, as Clary loved to point out.

Obviously, he'd chucked it in the trash two seconds after drawing it.

Jace sighed in frustration, turning to his side to find Clary already painting. Splashes of red and gold began dotting the canvas, although for the life of him he couldn't figure out what she was drawing. "Yes," he admitted grumpily, throwing down his paintbrush. "We can't all be art geniuses unlike _some _people."

Clary laughed, turning to look at him fully now. "You act as if art is rocket science or something. I told you, Jace. It's just a form of expression. You don't need to think so hard. Just start, and you'll find that the picture draws itself."

Jace leaned forward. "So you think that anyone can draw anything? Even if they don't have a shred of artistic ability?"

Clary shook her head, red curls flying. "Art isn't about how well you do it. It's about what matters to you, what you want to show the world. That's why different artists have different styles of drawing. You don't see the world the same way someone else does, do you? How can you expect to draw or paint like they do?"

Clary hadn't stopped painting while she talked. Her hand moved deftly across the canvas, tracing red and gold and pink in short strokes and he realized that she had been painting a sunset. Her green eyes were focused, concentrated, her lips slightly parted as she paused to survey her work. There was a small splatter of paint on the edge of her shirt, but she didn't seem to notice.

For a split second, Jace wondered what that would feel like – to have something you loved that much. He'd forgotten what it felt like to care so deeply about something that you could lose yourself in it.

"What about you?" he asked again, and he didn't know why he was so inquisitive but something about the way she spoke kept drawing him in. "What do you like to draw?"

Clary set down the paintbrush, evidently satisfied with her art, and swivelled on her chair to look at him. She paused, clearly trying to see if he was serious, and then said "People".

Jace frowned. "People? Like models?"

She scoffed. "God, no. I don't know how people draw models. They're just posing. There's nothing...well, real, there. That's what I feel anyway." She added the last part in a rush, her tone almost defensive.

"What do you mean, real?"

Clary tilted her head thoughtfully. "I like to draw people when they aren't aware of it. When they're just being themselves. That's when you get to see them for who they are, not who they think they need to be."

For some reason he couldn't fathom, Jace had become fascinated. "Who do you draw?"

She shrugged. "I don't have any criteria. It's normally people I know, like Tessa or Isabelle, but I draw strangers too. Not usually though."

"Have you ever drawn me?" Jace teased, half-curious.

Clary rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, Herondale. There's nothing that interesting about you."

"Oh, come on!" He protested. "Look, I know it's hard to contain all this magnificence on paper – "

"_Excuse me_ – "

"But I'm really very easy to draw," Jace finished. "Come on, Clary. I know you want to."

"Keep dreaming," Clary rolled her eyes, moving to slap his arm and accidentally jostled her bag, which she'd left on the side of the table. It tipped over, and her sketchbook slid out.

Clary reached for it, but Jace got there first. He snatched it off the table, and started flipping through it, ignoring Clary's protests.

"Give that back!" She almost toppled over herself trying to reach for it, but he held it out of her reach, grateful that Clary was so short.

"I will, if you draw me," he bargained, still holding it away from her. "Mrs Fairchild will kill me!" she argued, almost ripping his shirt as she tried to get her sketchbook back. "We're supposed to be doing an assignment!"

"Which you've already finished," Jace pointed out.

She sighed in frustration and looked from her sketchbook to his face, evidently deliberating. She must have decided that her precious sketchbook was more important than not giving in to him because she folded her arms and huffed. "Fine. Now give it _back_."

"With pleasure," he smiled, handing her the sketchbook. "I knew you were low but I never thought you'd resort to blackmail," Clary yanked it to her chest, shooting him death glares.

"Like you did?" Jace raised an eyebrow, remembering the day she'd threatened to tell Jonathan on him. Jace was very rarely scared of anything, but Jon's anger – well, he'd be an idiot if he didn't fear that.

"Oh shut up," Clary snapped, and he grinned. Getting under Clary's skin, he thought, was really the best sort of entertainment.

"So, how do you want me?" he winked, and saw her pale cheeks flush as she opened up the sketchbook and flipped to a new page.

"Just do your damn assignment," Clary instructed, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. "You know you only have twenty minutes, right?"

Jace grinned. "Don't worry about me. I think you have the harder job, short stuff."

Clary met his gaze briefly, the edges of her lips quirking upwards, and then she set her pencil to the pristine white paper and began to draw.

* * *

_Was Sydney Carton a tragic hero?_

Mr Wayland finished off the last word with a flourish, set down the black marker, and perched himself on the edge of his desk, looking around at the expectant faces turned towards him. "Can anyone define a tragic hero? James?"

"A great or virtuous character," Jem answered, in his usual calm tone, "destined for downfall or defeat because of a fatal flaw he possesses."

"Very good," Mr Wayland nodded. "As stated, a tragic hero must be a virtuous person. Do you think this describes Sydney?" His gaze landed on Tessa. "Tessa?"

His discussions were something that Tessa greatly liked and admired about Mr Wayland. He never pushed himself forward, never tried to impose his opinions on them and call it the right answer. He always invited their ideas and thoughts first, made them question and discover answers for themselves while he helped from the sidelines.

"I think it does," Tessa agreed. "While he was not a very pleasant person at first he ultimately redeems himself. When he sacrifices himself, it's not even for Lucie – it's for Charles Darnay, a person he doesn't really like but who he knows is important to Lucie. He wants her to be happy. Isn't it a mark of a good person that they sacrifice their own life and happiness for someone else?"

"But is it just for Lucie that he died?" A familiar voice interjected, and Tessa turned her head in surprise to look at Will just as whispers and murmurs broke out across the classroom. Even Mr Wayland looked taken aback by the interruption.

Will actually bothering to speak up in class? That was an occurrence Tessa could never recall happening in living memory.

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

Will leaned back in his seat, dark eyes fixed intensely on her. "_I am a disappointed drudge, sir,_" he quoted. "_I care for no man on earth and no man on earth cares for me._"

Tessa almost fell over in shock, the same shock she was sure her fellow classmates were feeling at the moment. Will had actually bothered to _read_ A Tale of Two Cities? And not just read it, but know it so well that he could quote full sentences verbatim?

"Those words don't seem like those of someone who cares very much about his own life," Will continued. "Sacrifice means you give up something that means a lot to you for someone else. Clearly, Sydney doesn't give a damn about himself, so why would it matter to him to die in Darnay's place? That wasn't sacrifice. Sydney died for himself, more than he died for Lucie."

"If he just wanted to die," Tessa countered, "he could've done it in any number of ways. Why only then? Sydney's sacrifice wasn't just his death. It was giving up Lucie's love to Charles. He knew that she didn't love him, that she would never love him, but he didn't become bitter or vengeful towards her because of that. His last act was to make sure that she was happy, even if that happiness wasn't with him. Doesn't that make him a good person?"

Will drummed his long fingers lightly on the table. "But even if he had a chance at her love, he would not have taken it. He thinks himself that he is undeserving of Lucie's love. Like you said, he knows he will never win her heart. He died so that she could be happy, but that isn't the only reason. He died so that he wouldn't have to continue living the life he's led so far, and the one he would be forced to continue living. He had nothing to live for."

Tessa was stunned. She had never heard Will sound like that before, never heard him speak with such conviction, as if nothing at all could change his mind. His tone was serious, honest – almost as if, she thought, he was Sydney Carton himself, as if he knew the fictional character's heart and soul as well as he knew his own.

"So you believe, Will," Mr Wayland cut in, "that Sydney wasn't a hero?"

"Not in the way that everyone considers him to be," Will replied smoothly, and although it was Mr Wayland who had asked him the question it was to Tessa that his words were directed, and on Tessa that his gaze remained. "He was enough of a good man to know that Lucie was better off without him, to let her go and be happy. But he wasn't a hero just because he died for Darnay to live. He was just a man who had no reason and no purpose in his life. His only redeeming quality was that he was wise enough to know his own worthlessness."

"His love for Lucie was his redeeming quality," Tessa countered, and some part of her was aware that the whole class was watching them volley back and forth open-mouthed, but she didn't care. She didn't know why this debate was so important, only that there was something about Will's tone, about the bitter amusement on his face that she couldn't stand. "You say that he had no reason and no purpose in his life, but Lucie gave him that purpose. His actions throughout the book are motivated by his love for Lucie. I don't believe he's a tragic hero, but I think he was a hero. Heroes change the lives of those around them for the better, and that's what Sydney did."

"Even if he believed himself to be worthless, he didn't have to die the way that he did. Even if he didn't want to live, he could have killed himself in a less painful, less humiliating way. He knew his death was the only way that the person he loved could be happy, and that's why he took Darnay's place. That means he was a good person, after all," Tessa finished, breathless. "Even if he didn't think he was."

The class had fallen utterly silent, even Mr Wayland watching wide-eyed as Tessa finished her speech. Tessa realized that somewhere in their debate, she and Will had subconsciously moved towards each other, his arms planted on the desk leaning towards her, and her body swung sideways out of her chair towards him.

She exhaled softly, waiting for his response, but he didn't speak. His eyes seemed bluer than ever as they fixed intensely on her own gray ones, and there was an oddly compelling look on his face – as if what she had said was both infinitely funny and infinitely tragic at the same time, as if he was thinking of a private joke he had not shared with her.

"Excuse me?"

The sudden voice broke the spell that seemed to have enchanted the whole class. Feeling as though she had just woken from a strange dream, Tessa leaned away from Will and looked towards the door, trying to calm her racing heart. She couldn't shake the feeling that their conversation had gone, somehow, far deeper than just a literary discussion but surely that was ridiculous. She had just been defending her favourite fictional character. It was perfectly normal to be passionate, and she was just being silly.

Who else could they have been talking about?

"Am I in the right place?"

A tall, brown-haired boy stepped into the classroom, a frown on his face as he looked around the curious class. No one answered him for a split second before Mr Wayland tore his gaze away from Will and Tessa and moved towards the new arrival. "Can I help you?"

The boy looked puzzled. "This is first period English Literature, right? I'm a new student – I'm sorry I'm late but I got lost – "

Mr Wayland nodded, giving the boy a friendly smile. "That's right. I apologize, it must have slipped my mind that you were joining us today. I'm Mr Wayland. Do you have your transfer papers?"

The boy's shoulders slumped, clearly relieved as he handed Mr Wayland a sheaf of papers he'd held in his hand. "I'm sorry Mr Wayland but I was only told today that we'd have to read A Tale of Two Cities. I don't have the book yet – "

"That's no problem," Mr Wayland waved him off jovially. "You can share with one of your classmates for the time being." He looked around the classroom, frowning, and then his eyes fell on Tessa. "Tessa? Would you mind showing our new student the ropes?"

"Of course not, Mr Wayland," Tessa acquiesced as the boy turned to look at her. He had piercingly gray eyes, almost the colour of her own, and he gave her a friendly smile. She could already tell that he was taller than her – not something many accomplished – and his cheekbones looked sharp enough to slice salami. She had to admit, he was rather hot.

_Not as hot as Will. _

Tessa knew her cheeks were turning red as she thanked her lucky stars that Will couldn't read minds. She could just imagine his ego swelling up if he knew that thought had crossed her mind. _Where had that even come from?!_

Mr Wayland gestured to the class. "I don't remember your name, I'm afraid. Would you like to introduce yourself?"

The boy nodded politely_, _and took a step forward.

"I'm Axel Mortmain."

* * *

Jace had managed to come up with something that could be called a painting and set his paintbrush down just as the clock struck five minutes to the end of the period.

He let out a relieved sigh, wrinkling his nose at the paint covering his fingertips, and then turned to look at Clary. She was still sketching, her bright hair falling over her forehead like a curtain between her and the world outside. He couldn't see her eyes through the veil of hair, but her fingers continued moving, quick and nimble, almost flying across the page.

She hadn't said a word for the past fifteen minutes, only sat with her sketchbook perched on her knees and her head bent over the page, sketching and erasing alternately. He had just wondered how much longer she would take when she drew back, throwing her hair back over her shoulders. "Finished," she said with satisfaction, setting her pencil down on the table and brushing stray pieces of dust from the page.

"Well, finally," Jace drawled, leaning in her direction. "I was wondering if you'd died sitting up. Can I see it now?"

Clary hesitated, looking up at him, and to his surprise, there was something very open and vulnerable in her eyes. Jace realized it was the first time he had ever openly asked to see her artwork, without any sort of malice or teasing. "Don't I get to see?" he needled her. "I need to make sure you've done justice to my perfection."

That did it – all the vulnerability vanished from her eyes, and she lightly smacked his shoulder with the book before giving it to him. He flipped it open, and felt his breath catch in his chest.

Clary had drawn him slumped over the table, almost asleep out of pure boredom. His eyes were half-lidded, as if he was interested in something but couldn't be bothered to properly see what it was, mouth slightly open. She had captured everything perfectly, from the curve of his shoulder to the messy strands of his hair. It felt like he was looking into a mirror, like she'd somehow given life to the black and white Jace on the page.

He'd always known she was a good artist but this – good didn't even cover it. He didn't know how long he had stayed like that staring at her work before she tugged it away from him, lips slightly downturned.

"I know you're in love with yourself, but that's enough admiration Herondale," Clary teased lightly. "You know it's harmful to –"

"That was amazing," Jace blurted out. "Seriously, Morgenstern. I didn't know you could draw like that."

She looked at him doubtfully, scanning his face for any sign of insincerity or dishonesty. "Are you making fun of me?"

"No," Jace said honestly. "That was – I knew you were good but that wasn't just drawing. You have a gift, Clary."

Her lips curved into a small smile – a real, true smile – and he realized that was the first time he had ever seen her smile at him like that, as if she truly liked him. It also struck him suddenly that Clary, with her shortness and her graphic T-shirts and unruly red hair, was seriously beautiful when she smiled.

"I take it that meets your standards then?" she asked as the bell rang and they stood up to pack their bags.

"Definitely," he confirmed, and handed her the sketchbook back. "I've only known one other person who draws like you." The words left his mouth before he could think them through, and he immediately tensed, hoping she wouldn't ask but of course –

"Who?" Clary gave him a curious sideways look.

He could always lie of course, like the thousands of times he had before. But for some reason, he couldn't lie to Clary about this, not when she looked at him with those green eyes, not when her art brought back memories from a time he'd rather forget.

Jace averted his eyes from hers, focusing on tipping the dirty water out of his palette into the sink as he spoke. "My mother."

He was aware that Clary was looking at him in surprise, probably dying to ask more questions, but he knew he couldn't – shouldn't – answer any of them. He'd spent years forcing those memories down, locking them away into places where they couldn't torment him again. He hadn't thought about his mother for so long, but now she seemed almost like a living ghost, brought to life by Clary Morgenstern and her impassioned art speeches and damned perfect drawing skills.

Because for a second it had felt like he was eight years old again, back in time in another art studio, with another canvas and another artist who spoke about her art as if she loved it more than life itself.

"Jace?" Clary's voice was tentative, and the light touch of her hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality with a bump. He forced the images back into that dark corner of his mind, the place they should never have left. _She's gone. She's gone and memories won't bring her back. _

"I'm fine, short stuff," Jace replied, purposely keeping his tone light. He didn't meet her eyes until they were both outside the classroom, pulling his backpack over his shoulder. He needed to change the subject before she could ask anything else.

"I'll pick you up at five tonight," he smirked as he saw her face blanch, horror replacing the curiosity as she remembered the date that she'd promised him. Then she crossed her arms and gave him one of her famous death glares. "Are you still not going to tell me where we're going?"

"But that would take all the fun out of it, wouldn't it?" He mused, already seeing her mouth open to argue.

He didn't let her get the words out before he leaned down, so close that he could see his own reflection in her irises, and gently pressed his lips to her cheek. Her eyes were wide when he pulled away, clear as glass and full of surprise and amazement.

"I'll see you tonight, Clary."

Then Jace stepped away and turned to walk down the crowded corridor, trying not to think of how soft and smooth her skin had felt under his lips and ignoring the sneaking suspicion that Clary was occupying his thoughts far more than she should have been.

* * *

_I'm...alive? _

_*ducks to avoid flying seraph blades thrown by readers*_

_I am so sorry guys, I had no idea it would take so long to get this chapter out. For the past four months I've been through intensive studying and revision for my O Levels – which I'm pretty sure I screwed up anyway – but good news, it's over now so I'm free!_

_Anyway quick updates on what's been going on for the past six months: I've sold another part of my soul to Sarah J Maas, I am now obsessed with both her series, I became a year older, and I have become more of a crazed fangirl if that's even possible. _

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I really enjoyed Wessa's debate in this one and Clace is just getting progressively cuter ohmygawd. I love them, my babies. Super excited for Shadowhunters Season Two! (And we're going to see Sebastian guys. I'm so excited, you don't even know how hard I screamed when I found out)_

_Tell me how your lives have been for the past six months (to all my American readers, I am so, so sorry about what happened on 8 November. Stay strong guys, I love you all. You don't deserve Donald Trump as President) and of course, tell me your thoughts on Wessa, Clace, and a certain new character... *wink wink*_

_Till next time! _


	12. Chapter 11

_Happy 2017! _

_No, you're not dreaming. I really did update :)_

_Thank you for all your wonderful reviews! I absolutely loved reading them. You are all amazing (I know I say this every chapter but seriously guys your support means the world to me).__ I can't believe it's been 2 years since I began this. _

_Thank you all so much for your love and support. I promise I will finish this story, even if it takes me ten years to do so (but hopefully not). _

_Now without further ado...here is the much anticipated Clace date! _

_Happy reading! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or The Infernal Devices._

* * *

_"I'm in love with the shape of you. We push and pull like a magnet do. Although my heart is falling too, I'm in love with your body. And last night you were in my room, and now my bedsheets smell like you. Every day discovering something brand new, I'm in love with your body..." _

_\- Shape of You, Ed Sheeran _

* * *

**Chapter Eleven **

_Clary: Tell me. _

_Clary: Jace. _

_Clary: Tell me NOW._

_Clary: Are you ignoring me on purpose?_

_Clary: JACE! _

_Jace: Yes, sweetheart? _

_Clary: Tell me where we're going. And quit the pet names. _

_Jace: What's the magic word?_

_Clary: Go to hell. _

_Jace: That's three words, darling. _

_Clary: UGHHHH_

_Jace: Interesting, but I'm not sure that qualifies as a word. _

_Clary: Just tell me where we're going, damn you! _

_Jace: Hmmmm...no. _

_Clary: I don't know what to wear until you tell me where we're going. So unless you want to see me in pyjamas, TELL ME. _

_Jace: But that would be boring _

_Clary: At least give me a clue. _

_Jace: What will you give me in return? ;)_

_Clary: I'll restrain myself from strangling your fat head. _

_Jace: :(_

_Jace: Fine. We're going somewhere outdoors. Wear something you can climb in. _

_Clary: CLIMB? WTF?_

_Clary: What are you going to make me do?!_

_Clary: JACE! Don't you dare disappear now! _

_Clary: I hate you. _

Jace could practically imagine Clary stomping her foot as she waited for him to reply, her usual creamy complexion slowly turning the colour of her hair as the seconds passed.

"Wow," Will remarked amusedly from where he was leaning over Jace's shoulder to read Clary's rapidly incoming messages, which were quickly increasing in frequency and curse words. "You sure pissing off your date is the best way to go before you pick her up?"

"She wouldn't be Clary if she wasn't pissed at me," Jace grinned, setting the phone down on the bed and grabbing his leather jacket from where he'd left it hung over the bedpost. "Besides, at least I have a date. You're going to spend your Friday night doing _homework_?"

"It's not like I have a choice," Will retorted, flopping back onto Jace's bed. "If I don't finish it by Sunday, Tessa's going to have my balls."

"You wish she had your balls," Jace smirked, raising an eyebrow at his brother. "Seriously, you guys have been working on this project for how long now? You still haven't asked her out yet?"

"Nope."

"How exactly are you going to win her over if you haven't even gone on a date? You think Tessa's going to wake up one day and decide she's madly in love with you?"

Will crossed his arms behind his head, looking perfectly unruffled. "All good things come to those who wait, little brother."

"Being three months younger than you does not make me your _little brother, _Will."

Will sighed dramatically. "Now, now, don't get upset Jacey dear. I know it's hard to live up to my shining example but never fear, I'm always here to help. One day you'll get there, Jace." He sat up and nodded, patting Jace's shoulder. "I have absolute faith in you."

Once upon a time, Jace thought, he would have rather believed he'd get hit by lightning than think Will would ever utter those words.

"I can never thank you enough," he drawled, shaking Will's hand off his shoulder. "What would I ever do without you?"

"I know," Will nodded some more. "It hurts my heart to think of you, so lost and alone in this world without my guidance. After all, you have learnt everything you know from me."

"Except it seems, the art of women," Jace pointed out.

Will waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, please. Just because I prefer a more subtle approach doesn't mean I'm not equally talented, little brother."

"Yeah right," Jace scoffed, stuffing his phone into the pocket of his jeans. "I'm much better, and you know it."

"Well," Will stood up, raising a sceptical eyebrow. "If you're so sure of your expertise, then I propose a challenge."

"Alright." Jace folded his arms and met his brother's dark blue gaze. "I'm listening."

* * *

_Holy shit._

Clary's mouth fell open as she stared at the redhead looking back at her from the full-length mirror on her closet door.

The girl's long red locks were pulled back into a half ponytail, her curls cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall. Her cream-coloured shirt revealed her bare shoulders and the slightest hint of cleavage, tucked into jean shorts that stopped just an inch above mid thigh and made her normally short legs appear longer and leaner. Her wide green eyes were outlined with eyeliner and mascara, her usually pale cheeks dusted with blush, and her slightly parted lips were rose pink.

Clary blinked, and then turned to squeeze the life out of Isabelle and Cecily, who – with Tessa's help – had somehow managed to transform her from regular Clary to gorgeous Clary in just thirty-seven minutes.

"Now normally, I swear by heels on a date," Isabelle folded her arms, looking as though someone had asked her to sacrifice her first-born to Donald Trump, "but since Jace decided to be all mysterious, I suppose – this time! – you can wear sneakers."

Clary grinned. "Thanks, Izzy. I know what a sacrifice that is for you."

She turned to look at the digital clock on her bedside table. The blinking green numbers read _4:56. _

Less than five minutes before Jace arrived to pick her up.

Cecily and Isabelle left after wishing her good luck, leaving Clary with nothing to do but slip on her shoes and wait for Jace. Tessa grinned at Clary from her position on the bed, her blue-grey eyes sparkling with excitement. "Ready for your big date?"

"Not in the slightest," Clary replied, plopping down onto the lavender bedspread besides her cousin. "I can't believe I'm wasting my Friday night on Jace, when I could be watching Pretty Little Liars. I have to cheat on Netflix, Tessa. _Netflix. _We've been together for years."

"You know, I was thinking I had it pretty bad having to spend mine studying for that Math final, but yours might actually be worse," Tessa mused, reaching out to squeeze Clary's hand. "But it _is_ for a worthy cause."

Clary squeezed back, feeling grateful for Tessa's support. Although Tessa was technically her cousin, Clary knew that both she and Jonathan considered Tessa more like another sister. They hadn't been very close when they were younger – living on separate continents meant they saw each other only a couple of times a year, and they'd never found much in common before, but all that had changed when Tessa came to live with them. Clary's mother, still dealing with the loss of her sister, had tried her best to help Tessa, but even she didn't know how to balance both her own grief and that of her niece.

It was Clary who had sat up with Tessa night after night, warming her cold hands, holding her close when she wept, taking her mind off her nightmares when she woke up screaming from memories of the car crash that had killed her entire family.

Slowly, Tessa had started to come back to life. The haunted look vanished from her face, she started laughing more often, and her nightmares came less frequently. She'd started reading again, been able to step foot into a car without shaking violently, learned to drive and gotten her license.

But the grief had never fully vanished. Sometimes Clary saw those same shadows in Tessa's blue-grey eyes, saw her grip her mother's clockwork angel until her knuckles turned white, knew that she woke up in the middle of the night imagining that she was back on that icy road in London.

Tessa's wasn't fully healed, not yet. And Clary wondered if she was doing the right thing by letting Tessa continue with the plan, encouraging her to manipulate someone else's feelings when her own were still so muddled.

"We're doing the right thing aren't we?" Clary voiced the doubt that had been in the back of her mind for days. "Because this is our last chance. If I go on this date, we can't back out after that."

Tessa turned to look at her, eyes narrowing in concern – but before she could reply, the doorbell rang.

Both of them startled, and Clary jumped off the bed, smoothing down her clothes and patting any flyaway hairs. She glanced at the clock to find that it was 5pm – Jace was right on time. "How do I look?"

Tessa smiled. "Absolutely gorgeous. Jace isn't going to know what hit him." She reached out to grasp Clary's shoulders. "You can pull this off, Clary. You've handled Jace for six years. It's just one night."

"You're right," Clary nodded, straightening up as she shoved that niggling doubt into the back of her mind.

"Let's do this."

* * *

"No. Freaking. Way."

Clary stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes fixated on the black motorcycle parked on the road. "There is no way in hell I'm getting on _that _thing."

When Jace had told her he'd pick her up, she'd thought he would arrive in a car, not a _motorcycle _of all things. Valentine had instilled a deep mistrust of motorcycles in her from the time she was old enough to understand basic English, and she'd always firmly maintained that she would never get on one. She didn't even want to imagine his facial expression if he could see her now.

"Clary, it's not as bad as you think."

Clary eyed the motorcycle suspiciously. "Where did you get this from?"

"Six Fingered Nigel."

"_Who?"_

"Just this dude I know," Jace shrugged dismissively. "But I promise it's totally safe. Nigel's never let me down yet. Nothing's going to happen."

"There is no way I'm getting on some deathtrap that belonged to someone with a name like Six-Fingered Nigel," Clary folded her arms across her chest. "Nice try, Herondale."

As hard as she tried to remove it from her memory, when she looked at Jace, Clary could still feel the imprint of his lips on her cheek, still remember how warm and soft they had felt, could still see the look in his eyes as he'd pulled away.

"Clary, I've ridden it thousands of times." Jace turned the full force of that golden-eyed puppy dog look on her. She hated how infuriatingly good he looked leaning against the bike like that – with his tousled blonde hair, leather jacket and chiselled features, he could have walked straight out of a magazine photo shoot. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not in the slightest."

Jace crossed the distance between them in two long strides, and before Clary knew what was happening, he had pulled her hands away from her chest. His fingers intertwined with hers, warm and gentle, as he dropped their hands and used his grip to pull her closer.

"Look, I know I haven't given you a lot of reasons to trust me," Jace started. "But I would never let anything happen to you. I promise you'll be safe, and not just because Jonathan would smash me to pulp if I got his little sister injured."

Clary rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop the amused smile tugging at her lips. "Jonathan would smash you to pulp if he knew that you were taking me on a date in the first place."

"Which is why we aren't telling him," Jace agreed, but there was real sincerity in his eyes as he waited for her reply.

Clary shot one more look at the ebony death machine and then sighed. "I suppose – one time – I can give it a try."

Jace shot her a blinding grin that made her heart skip a beat, pulling her towards the motorcycle and dropping her hands before vaulting himself onto it in one smooth move.

Clary fought back the sudden nerves that enveloped her as she climbed on behind him, thanking her lucky stars that her father was away on his business trip. If he had any idea that she was breaking his sacred 'no motorcycles' rule, there would be hell to pay.

_Where the heck do I put my hands? _

"You're supposed to hold on to me, short stuff," Jace drawled, as if he'd read her mind. "Unless you want to fall off, that is."

Clary recalled the time she'd caught him half-naked in the bathroom, and the magnificent work of art he was currently concealing under that leather jacket, and swallowed.

_Don't think about it, you idiot! _

Hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around his (practically sculptured) torso, feeling his stomach muscles tense beneath her fingers as she pulled herself ever-so-slightly closer to him.

_Maybe there are some plus sides to this motorcycle thing after all..._

Clary shook her head firmly, dispelling the thought of how nice Jace's abs felt from her head. She was holding on to him just so she didn't fall off. It was purely to be safe. She was all about safety.

Obviously.

"Ready?" Jace asked, and she could've sworn his voice was just slightly breathless as he waited for her to reply.

"Go for it," Clary bit her lip, holding her breath as Jace started the engine.

And then she was flying.

She let out her breath in a whoosh of shock, automatically tightening her grip on Jace. To her surprise, she didn't feel as if she was about to tip over or fly off the back, didn't feel the nerves that had seized her just before they'd taken off. There was nothing but the breeze blowing into her face, and the sensation of being absolutely, completely weightless.

As the motorcycle picked up speed, the world around her turned into a kaleidoscope of colour. The falling leaves intermingled, red and orange and maroon, and the wind whipped her hair back from her face, stinging her eyes as they sped through the streets of suburban New York. She pressed her cheek into Jace's back, turning to look as the world flew by around her in a blaze of colour, laughing with the absolute freedom and recklessness and delight of it all.

"This is amazing!" Clary exclaimed, tipping her head backwards to drink in the wide expanse of blue sky above her, feeling deliciously light and free as if she had left all her worries and problems miles behind her.

"I told you it would be fine!" Jace called back over the roar of the engine and the rush of the wind, swerving in a way that tore a gasp out of Clary as she was jolted forward towards him. Feeling uncharacteristically reckless, she leaned forward so that her front was firmly pressed against his back, letting her tight grip around his waist slip just enough to lightly trail her fingertips along his abs.

"I know I'm irresistible, but even I didn't expect you to start feeling me up on a motorcycle, Morgenstern."

"Don't give yourself so much credit," Clary shot back. "I had to adjust my position since _you _jolted me."

"Then I'll just have to do it more."

Before Clary could formulate a reply, Jace took an abrupt right turn and she instinctively locked her arms in a vice grip around his torso, squeezing her eyes shut in sudden panic that they were going to fall.

But save for Jace's low laugh, nothing else happened and they continued on without any accidents (thankfully, otherwise Valentine _and _Jocelyn would've had her head). She opened her eyes to find the motorcycle coasting along a familiar tree-lined street, eventually slowing to a stop in front of the last place she would have ever expected Jace to bring her on a date.

Jace got off easily, looking down at her still seated, shocked, on the motorcycle. "Are you going to sit there staring all day?"

"Your _house_?" Clary asked incredulously, clambering off the bike and smoothing down her wind-ruffled hair. "_That's _where you're going to take me?"

"If you want to be specific," Jace replied sarcastically, "it's really my bed."

Clary didn't know if it was the motorcycle ride, her own idiotic brain, or simply the fact that she was somehow on a date with Jace Herondale, but before she'd even had the chance to process the words, she heard them fall from her lips –

"What are you waiting for, then?"

She instantly wanted to clap her hands over her traitorous mouth as she saw Jace's mouth fall slightly open, his eyes widening at her uncharacteristically flirty response.

To make matters worse, not only had her brain-to-mouth filter completely malfunctioned, Clary couldn't find a single witty remark to counter the horrifying words that had just left her mouth.

But even as the silence between them lengthened, she saw those bright gold irises darken, saw his gaze slip from her eyes to her lips, caught the flash of appreciation on his face as he took her in from head to toe.

And suddenly, she couldn't help but wonder what Jace would do if she swung her arms around his neck, pressed her lips to his and really asked him to take her up to that bed –

_CLARISSA MORGENSTERN! _That very Tessa-like voice in her head – the normally absent voice of reason – finally decided to make an appearance. _What the HELL are you thinking?! _

Clary cleared her throat loudly, taking a long step out of dangerous proximity. Clearly, too much exposure to a Herondale was dangerous to one's mental state. "Who's the one staring now?"

She hoped her voice didn't sound as falsely cheery to Jace as it did to her, but thankfully he seemed to have come out of whatever fog both of them had been in for the past few seconds.

"You know, if you wanted an invitation to my bed," Jace smirked, "all you had to do was ask. It's an open spot for you."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Clary rolled her eyes, inwardly relieved that they were back to their usual banter. Clearly, whatever weird thing it was that had transpired between them was over now. In fact, it was probably all just a result of her overactive imagination and adrenaline high.

Yes. That had to explain it.

Satisfied, Clary stepped up on the pavement and looked up at the towering mansion. Jace had driven them around to the back of the house, the side that looked out over the woods. She looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. "So, where are we actually going?"

Jace stepped up beside her and flourished a hand towards the trees ahead of them.

"Into the woods."

* * *

_INTO THE WOODS, IT'S TIME TO GO! _

_Sorry, I just HAD to make that reference ;)_

_I'm sorry there was no Wessa this chapter, but since I gave y'all a LOT of Wessa in the last couple of chapters, I thought I'd have one dedicated just to Clace. _

_Quick rant: OMG YOU GUYS THEY CASTED SEBASTIAN! I'M SO EXCITED! He's been played by Will Tudor (let's just talk about the irony that his name is Will) and he looks amazing! I feel like he can really pull off Sebastian's hot, creepy, charismatic nature. Seriously, great job casting team. _

_*spoiler alert* I know a lot of people might be put off Shadowhunters bc of the latest plot twist last episode, but I for one am actually really okay with it. I was never a big fan of Jocelyn and I think that she never played such an integral role in the books anyway. I'm sure that the show can move on without her. What were your feelings about it? *end of spoiler*_

_As always, please review and tell me your thoughts about this chapter! I would love to hear from you guys. _

_Till next time! _


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